


A Not So Chance Encounter

by FairyPrincessKjar



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, feysand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-17 14:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 51,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyPrincessKjar/pseuds/FairyPrincessKjar
Summary: Rhys is persuaded to attend a fundraiser by his cousin Mor. He didn’t expect to meet the girl of his dreams.





	1. Coerced

Rhys glanced around the crowded room in hopes of spotting Mor. His pain in the ass cousin, and the reason he had agreed to come tonight, was nowhere to be seen. Cursing under his breath, he made his way through the throng of people towards the bar. Rhys hated attending these types of events. He had little patience for the political scheming and backstabbing that took place under the guise of fundraising. He told Mor as much after she saw the invitation and insisted he go with her. His thoughts drifted back to the rather heated conversations that had followed. When the invitation had first arrived, Rhys had had no intention of going and had flung the envelope on a stack of papers on his desk and instantly forgotten about it. Until a few days later, that is, when Mor had shown up to borrow a book for a paper she was writing for one of her classes. As always, Mor walked into his study and sat in the office chair like a queen sitting on her throne.

“So how’s school going?” Rhys asked as he perched on the edge of the desk.

Mor rolled her eyes said, “Micro economics sucks.” Rhys chuckled a little.

“I hated that class too. There’s the book you asked for by the way,” he said as he pointed down at the desk. As Mor reached for the book, she noticed a silvery, filigreed envelope half buried under the stack of papers the book now rested atop. “What’s this?’ she asked as she pulled it out. Her eyes brightened as she read. She practically yelled, “We are so going to this!”

“Uh, no we are not. YOU are free to go, but I have other plans that night,” Rhys said with a bit of venom in his voice. He crossed his arms and stared at his cousin.

“Bullshit!” Mor spat. “You just don’t want to go because you’re anti-social.”

“Anti- social? Really? We can’t all live in a bar, Mor. Some of us have to work for a living!”

“Rhys, you are a business owner for fucks sake. Would it kill you to attend one of these parties? Think of all the possible benefits and contacts for Velaris.” Mor gave Rhys a look daring him to challenge her. Though he hated to admit it, she had a point.

“When did you get to be such a pain in my ass?” he said, but without much heat behind it.

She smirked and said, “So you’ll go then?” He let loose a big sigh nodded. She had flashed him a devious grin that made him a little suspicious before launching herself at him and trapping him in a bone-crushing hug. All suspicions were forgotten as she said, “You won’t regret going, I promise!”

He should have known she would be late. She certainly did like to make an entrance. Rhys snorted at the thought and adjusted the lapels of his jacket.

“Cauldron, I need a drink,” he muttered as he slid into an empty chair. The cell phone tucked in his jacket pocket began to vibrate. Rhys pulled out his phone and prayed it was his cousin letting him know she was there. Running late. Be there soon. She so owed him for this. His thoughts were interrupted by a polite, if not board, voice asking, “What can I get you?” Rhys looked up and all thoughts, except one, were thrown right out of his head. The bartender was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave comments! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	2. Perfect

For a moment, Rhys forget she had asked him a question. He forgot he was pissed at Mor for dragging his ass here tonight. He forgot everything except for the piercing stormy grey- blue eyes that held him captive. As she raised an eyebrow and looked expectantly at him, he cursed silently. Fuck. Smooth Rhys. Real smooth. How long had he been just staring at her? A minute? Two?

Hoping not to sound like a total idiot, he said, “I’ll just have a beer.”

The corner of her mouth twitched up a little at that. “A beer. You come to this fancy- dancy party and you order a beer?” Rhys couldn’t help noticing the way her nose crinkled as she smiled. The smattering of freckles she had was, quite frankly, adorable. A small laugh escaped him.

“I guess when you put it like that it does sound a little ridiculous. But between you and me, I’ve never been fond of these types of events. I’d rather be at home on the couch with a pizza and a six pack.”

She tilted her head to the side and said, “I have to agree with you on that. I’ll be right back with your drink,” she said, tucking a few strands of the gold- brown hair that had escaped her ponytail behind an ear. She spun around and reached into the cooler. The second her back was turned, he ran a hand threw his hair and straightened his jacket. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all. If he could keep his shit together, that is.

She returned quickly and set his drink down before him. “Thank you, uh….”

“Feyre.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Feyre, darling,” he purred. “I’m Rhysand but you can just call me Rhys.”

She rolled her eyes and snapped, “It’s just Feyre. Don’t call me darling.”

“Now what would be the fun in that Feyre, darling?” he drawled.

She looked thoroughly unimpressed. Resting her hand on her hip and cocking it to the side, she spat out, “You’re a real prick. You know that?” He tossed his head back and laughed. She was not taking any of his shit. This was going to be so much fun!

“Oh most definitely,” he said with a smirk. Feyre just stared at him, an incredulous look on her face. Muttering under her breath, she spun around and sashayed to the other end of the bar. He definitely did not check out her backside as she did so. Nope. Not one little bit. Not being able to control the shit- eating grin on his face, Rhys checked his phone. A message from Cass. Probably another dirty joke. Nothing new from Mor, though. Drinking perhaps faster than he normally would, he covertly watched the bartender. Pretending to scroll through tumblr, he watched her grab another beer and approach.

“Another one?” He nodded his head in answer, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“So Feyre darling, what do you do with yourself when you're not being the finest barkeep in all of Prythian?”

She snorted at that. “Are you always this insufferable, or is tonight a special occasion?”

“My friends would probably say that I’m always an insufferable bastard.” He paused long enough to smirk at her. “You never answered my question, by the way.”

She looked at him, considering. “I’m a student at the University. I’ll be graduating at the end of the year. I also work part- time at one of the art galleries downtown.”

He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this woman so he asked, “What are your plans after graduation? Somehow I don’t see you bartending. Your people skills are simply atrocious.”

Feyre rolled her eyes at that but he was thrilled to notice the smile that appeared on her sumptuous lips.

“No. Definitely not bartending. I’m into art. I’m actually an art major. I hope to someday have my own gallery.” There was a spark in her eyes as she spoke about her plans.

“What about you? What do you usually do, besides pissing people off?”

“After college, a few friends and I started a publishing company. That’s why I’m here tonight actually. My cousin thought coming here tonight would help grow the company, or something like that.”

A look of surprise flashed across her face, quick enough that Rhys thought he had imagined it.

“So you like books, huh? What’s your favorite?”

She seemed genuinely interested so he began describing a few of his current favorites. As it turned out, Feyre had read most of them as well. After a lively discussion, Rhys discovered they had similar tastes in literature and shared a passion for reading. She was in the middle describing the series she was currently reading, Throne of something or other, when a gentlemen at the other end of the bar yelled to get her attention. Feyre gave an apologetic look and scurried off to serve the jackass.

He tried. He really did try not to stare at her. Cauldron, she was perfect. Rhys ran his hand down his face and groaned inwardly. He was in such, deep, unending, shit.

From behind him, he heard the all too familiar voice of his cousin squeal, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Intending to give Mor hell for being late, he spun around in his seat. Surprisingly though, Mor was not looking at him. Instead, his cousin was facing the other end of the bar and looking right at Feyre, who happened to be walking around the bar towards Mor. His jaw damn near hit the floor in utter shock as he watched Mor prance up and envelope Feyre in a giant hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	3. The Meddler

“What in the hell is happening?” Saying that Rhys was thoroughly confused was an understatement.  His mind just couldn't make sense of what his eyes were seeing.  Mor knew Feyre?  From the looks of that hug, they were more than just acquaintances.  It looked as though they were the best of friends, but he knew everyone that Mor hung out with.  In fact, when they had family dinners with Cass, Az, and Amren, they could hardly get her to shut up about all of her friends.  Rhys was certain that none of her stories included the bartender.  He would definitely remember his cousin mentioning a friend who was an artist, and a beautiful one at that.  He blatantly gawked at them from a few feet away and listened to their conversation, not caring one bit that he was being ridiculous.    

“About time you got here! I thought you had decided not to come after all,” Feyre said as Mor finally released her.   

“Well, you see…” Mor shrugged her shoulders as a saccharine smile formed on her lips.  “You know me.  I had absolutely nothing to wear and had to go shopping! It took me a little longer to get ready than I had planned.”  

Feyre rolled her eyes and laughed.  “Typical. I should have known.” She gave Mor’s attire a once over.  The dress Mor had on was red, as per usual. It was knee length and hugged her generous curves.  Feyre’s face scrunched up in feigned distaste. “You look ok, I guess. Next time, though, you should take me shopping with you.  Just to make sure you don’t make any fashion mistakes. You do have a reputation to protect, after all.  I would be remiss in my duties as your friend if I didn’t help out.”    

Mor bit her lip to keep from laughing.  She jutted her hip out and flung her hair back, saying,  “Excuse me? Like you can talk.” Mor raised her hand and motioned to the work attire Feyre currently had on. “The peasant look was never really in style, by the way.”

Feyre simply raised an eyebrow and gave Mor an uncaring look.

Rhys’s eyes darted back and forth between the two women. What the actual fuck was happening?  The two woman eyeballed each other for a heartbeat longer and then began downright cackling, with Mor nearly doubling over.

When Mor had finally calmed down, she said, “Cauldron, I’m glad you’re here tonight, Fey.”

A huge smile spread across Feyre’s face as she said, “I missed you too, Mor!” Rhys thought that her smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life.  He decided right then and there that he would do everything and anything to see it again and again.

“Ugh. I just wish I wasn’t working.  Speaking of work, may I offer you a refreshment?” she batted her eyelashes at Mor and put on a smile that could go down in the customer service hall of fame.

Mor grumbled, “Don’t do that. It’s creepy.”  Feyre smirked as Mor continued, “I’ll get a drink in a bit. I need to find my cousin first.  He’s probably pissed as hell at me for being late.”

Hearing Mor mention him seemed to pull Rhys out of whatever trance he had been in since her arrival.  He jumped out of his seat and began walking quickly towards the two. Not wanting his cousin to walk away in the overcrowded room, he hollered, “Mor!”

Her face whipped around and her eyes met his. Mor strutted over to him and pulled him into a brief hug. As they separated, Rhys gave her the most disapproving look he could muster and snarled, “You’re late.”

She sighed and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry for being late, cousin dearest.” She screwed her face into the most hideous looking pout Rhys had ever seen. “Forgive me, please?”  Mor had him thoroughly wrapped around her pinky finger and she knew it.  Damn it. He wouldn’t be able to stay mad at her if he tried.  He let out a small sigh and said, “Fine. But you’re buying us drinks and then explaining why the hell you’re so late.”  She grinned at him and nodded her head, knowing that she had won him over.

Mor hooked her arm through his, guiding him in Feyre’s direction.  They stopped when Rhys was standing directly in front of her.

“Rhys, this is my friend Feyre.  Feyre, this is my cousin I’ve told you about. His name is Rhysand but everyone just calls him Rhys,” Mor finished the somewhat unnecessary introductions.

With his cheeks tinged the slightest shade of pink, he said, “Hello again, Feyre darling!  You didn’t mention earlier that you knew my cousin.”    

She winced and gave him an apologetic look. “I didn’t know who you were at first.  Mor has never told me your name.  I suspected you were her cousin when you mentioned your company.  Mor talks about you all the time and has mentioned it a few times.  I should have said something as soon as I realized.  I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Feyre darling.  Though, you could make it up to me by letting me take you out for a drink sometime.”

Feyre studied him as she twirled a piece of hair between her fingers.  “You’re going to keep calling me darling no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

“Oh, most definitely,” he purred.  It didn’t slip his attention that she had breezed right past the drink invitation.  

“Well, I’ll just have to come up with a name for you too.”  She paused, looking him up and down. “If you insist on calling me Feyre darling, I’ll just have to call you Rhysee- poo.” He tipped back his head and roared in laughter.

“Touché, Feyre darling.”  He tried to ignore Mor who was grinning at them like a fiend.  Had she…  Could that be why… No. Mor wouldn’t have orchestrated this evening just to set him up with Feyre. He was letting his imagination run wild.

“I have to get back to work before I get myself fired. We’re still going to Rita’s afterwards though, right?”

Mor gave her a bright smile, “Of course! I haven’t seen you in forever. And I want you to get to know my cousin.” She glanced and him and said imperiously, “You’re coming with us, by the way. And there’s no way you’re getting out of it, so don’t even try.”

A thrill went through him, though he tried not to show it. “Of course, cousin. I wouldn’t dream of disappointing you.”  By the Cauldron, he couldn’t believe his luck!  He would be able to spend more time with the beautiful, smart, and witty Feyre.

“After the event is finished I have to help clean up, but I should be done around 11.  I’ll meet you at Rita’s around 11:30, ok?”

“Please tell me you brought clothes to change into,” Mor whined.

Feyre put a hand on her hip and said, “Really, Mor? You think I’m going to show up to the club in this getup?”  She used her free hand and motioned towards her work attire.

Rhys watched his cousin throw her hands up in defeat.  “OK. OK. Calm your tits. I’m just checking.”

Feyre smiled sweetly and said, “Love you too, Mor. See you at Rita’s.” She paused long enough to look at Rhys and purred, “See you at the club, Rhysee- poo.”

“Looking forward to it, Feyre darling.” Rhys was mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she walked back to the bar.

An elbow jabbing his side interrupted his thoughts.  He turned to face his cousin and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m willing to accept your thanks at any time, you know,” she crooned.

Rhys huffed, “Thanks for what? Being late?”

“No you idiot. For getting you to come here tonight and introducing you to Feyre. I saw the way you were looking at her!” She said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

His eyes narrowed. What a nosy, meddling, little busybody! “Excuse me?”

“Pfft. Don’t play dumb. I can tell you like her. I knew you would. That’s why I wanted you to come here tonight in the first place, so the two of you could meet.  I just knew you would be perfect for eachother.”

Rhys honestly didn’t know if he should be pissed as hell and yell at Mor for meddling in his love life, or get down on his knees and thank her for introducing him to the girl of his dreams.

Instead, he said quietly, “Tell me about her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Feedback and suggestions are always welcome. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	4. The Shoe Drops

His cousin grinned wickedly at him. Rhys groaned and ran a hand through his hair.  Ugh, she was insufferable. Mor would make him beg before she told him one little scrap of information about Feyre.  

He was preparing to throw himself at her mercy when Mor squealed, “Holy shit, Rhys!”  He staggered back a bit as she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck in an enthusiastic hug. What was it tonight with all of the perplexing females?

“Ummmm….. Mor? Not that I don’t love you and all, but... what the hell?” He hoped the look he was giving her conveyed the bewilderment he was currently feeling.

“You like her. I mean, you really like her don’t you?”

Rhys turned a deep shade of red and shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure why, but talking about Feyre like this with Mor was making him feel incredibly self-conscious.  He kept his eyes on his shoes as he admitted, “Yeah. I really like her.”  Damn, he was acting like a love-sick teenager! He needed to get his shit together.  Rhys lifted his head and looked at his cousin.  Instead of the smirk and snarky response he was expecting, Mor stood there beaming brightly at him with a look that was full of love.            

“Why don’t we get out of here and go to Rita’s a little early? I doubt it’ll be that busy, so we should be able to get a table and talk for a bit.”

Rhys looked down at his watch.  It would be at least an hour before Feyre would be free to join them. As much as he wanted to go over to the bar and talk to her, he didn’t want to risk getting her in trouble with her boss.  

“Yeah, that sounds great. Let's go.”  Before moving though, he eyed his cousin suspiciously and asked, “Did you drive here tonight?” The last thing he needed was to have to worry about her leaving the club and trying to drive home drunk.  

“Hello! Did you see the shoes I wore tonight?”  She pointed down to the black stilettos she had on and huffed a laugh. Not that he knew much about high heels, but they did look rather perilous.

She flung her blonde hair behind her and smirked.  “Do you think I would be able to drive anywhere in these things?  Cauldon no, I didn't drive! I took an Uber.”

He let out a relieved breath and offered his arm to her. “Well, then.  It looks like I’m driving the two of us.  Shall we?”

  *******

Rhys looked around the familiar, upscale club and spotted an empty table near the back.  He had been to Rita’s plenty of times over the years.  Mor practically lived there and dragged him, Cass, Az, and even Amren along as often as she could.  There were plenty of other clubs in Prythian, but Mor favored Rita’s. Rhys never had been able to figure out why that was.  While he headed to claim the empty table before anyone else could, Mor went straight to the bar to order drinks. She joined him a moment later with a beer for him in one hand and an apple martini, her prefered drink, in the other.

He smiled as she handed him the bottle and said, “Thanks for the drink.”  Rhys clinked his bottle against Mor’s glass, uttering a quick, “Cheers.” 

She tipped her glass slightly in his direction and said, “Cheers, cousin.”   

Rhys was keen on having a conversation about Feyre, but he didn’t quite know how to begin.  He didn’t want to seem desperate, or creepy, or anything like that.  

Feigning a disinterest he most certainly didn’t feel, he asked, “So, how do you know Feyre? You’ve never mentioned her before and I thought I knew pretty much all of your friends.”

The look Mor gave him suggested he hadn’t fooled her one bit and she was fully aware how eager he was to know more about a certain female. Nonetheless, she divulged, “A few semesters ago, my academic advisor convinced me to sign up for Art History.  It sounded like it was going to be an easy A, so I agreed.”  She rubbed her forehead and spat out, “Biggest.  Mistake.  Ever.  It was definitely not an easy A.  The professor was horrible.  It was the most boring class I have ever taken.  Anyways, I ended up failing my first few assignments and quizzes.  I thought I would have to either have to drop the class or fail it.  In a last ditch effort to salvage my grade, I decided to beg the Teaching Assistant for help.  I walked up to her after class one day  I think I managed to get about two words out before I started bawling like a baby. I made quite a fool of myself, actually.”

Rhys has a hunch that the TA in question was none other than Feyre.  Mor confirmed his suspicions by saying, “The TA took me into an empty office and attempted to calm me down.  As I’m sure you’ve guessed, that TA turned out to be Feyre. She helped me out; worked with me every week so that I would pass that Cauldron damned class.  She didn’t have to, but she did anyways.”  Mor smiled as she reminisced.  “Half of our study sessions ended up with us sprawled on my couch gorging ourselves on chocolates.  Even after the class ended, we still hung out together all the time.  I’ve considered her one of my best friends ever since.” 

Rhys narrowed his eyes at her. “If she’s as good of a friend as you say, why haven’t you mentioned her before tonight?” Not that he didn’t believe her, it just seemed… odd.

Mor shrugged her shoulders. “I guess it just never came up.  And since she started working a second job, we haven't seen as much of each other lately.”

Rhys leaned forward and rested his arms on the edge of the table. “I don’t see how she does it.  Working two jobs plus going to school full time can’t be easy.”

“Well, let’s just say that Feyre hasn’t had the easiest life.  I think at this point, she’s used to it.  She probably wouldn’t know what to do with herself if she actually had any free time.”

That was a little too vague for him, so he said, “Mind elaborating on that?”

“Actually, I do mind. It’s not my story to tell. You’ll have to ask her if you want to know more.  What I will tell you is that, for years, she was responsible for caring for herself as well as her entire family. She wasn’t able to start at the University right after high school. She had to save up for a few years while at the same time being the main supporter of her family.  She’s actually just a year younger than you.”

For a moment, Rhys didn’t know what to say.  He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to be financially responsible for your family at such a young age.  He said with all sincerity, “Thank you. For telling me that.”  Mor smiled at him, albeit a bit more subdued than before.

“Anything else you could tell me?  Cauldron knows I need all the help I can get to keep from making a total ass of myself!”

Mor bit her lip and a strange look crossed her face.  Was that… guilt?  Shame?  He couldn’t make heads or tails of the expression.  Just as Mor opened her mouth to begin talking, her phone started vibrating. She snatched her phone off the table looked at the caller id.  

“It’s Fey,” Mor said as she answered the call. “Hey. Is everything ok?” her voice was laced with concern.  Had Feyre decided not to come? Trying to keep his emotions in check, he waited for his cousin to finish the phone call.  He watched as her creased brows eased and her features softened.

“Yeah, we’re at the club already.  We’re sitting at a table in the back.  See you soon!” Mor hung up the phone and placed it back on the tabletop.

Turning her attention back to him, she said, “I guess they had too many people there to help clean up, so she got off early. She just pulled into the parking lot.”  His eyes instantly darted towards the entrance of the club.  It couldn’t have been more than an hour since he last spoke to her, bur Rhys found that he was thrilled to have the chance to do so again.  When she finally walked through the door, his heart skipped a beat. He had thought she was beautiful before, but that was nothing compared to how she looked now. Feyre was clad in a black dress that snug enough to show off her considerable assets.  It was also short enough so that it displayed her amazing legs.     

Feyre sashayed over to the bar, presumably to get herself a drink.  As he waited for her to join them, his thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Mor and all that he had learned about the woman who had so thoroughly entranced him.  From what Mor had implied, Feyre had spent a large portion of her life fighting tooth and nail for what she wanted. He sincerely hoped that she would succeed in opening her own art gallery someday soon.  She deserved that, and so much more.  He watched her approach the table and smiled a real, genuine smile.  

“I’m so glad you got a table. I’m exhausted,” Feyre said in greeting. She hung her purse on the back of the chair besides Mor’s and plopped down.

“Feyre darling, you look absolutely ravishing,” he drawled as he looked her up and down, not even trying to hide his appreciation for the form fitting dress.  He was pleased to see a slight blush creep up her neck and reach her cheeks.

She swiveled in her chair and faced Mor.  “Can you please get your cousin to behave himself?” she pleaded.

Mor looked as though she were trying extremely hard not to laugh in Feyre’s face. “No can do, Fey.  I’ve tried, and failed, to get him to do just that since I was eight.  You’re on your own tonight, I’m afraid.”  

Feyre said sarcastically, “Thanks for the help, bestie.”  Rhys and Mor both burst out laughing at the long suffering look she gave them both.  She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like _pricks_.  She wasn’t really angry though, if the twinkle in her eye was any indication.  

  *******  

Rhys had probably smiled and laughed more tonight than he had in his entire life.  He couldn’t stop smiling, even if he had wanted to. The three of them got along so well, it was as if they had been the best of friends for years.  That was, in large part, thanks to Feyre. The more her got to know her, the more enamoured he became.  He would be well and truly fucked if she knew just how easily she had wrapped him around her finger.

His attention was brought back to the present when Mor suddenly stood up and declared, “I want to dance! Who’s coming with me?”  He glanced at Feyre to gage her reaction.  He would be more than willing to venture over to the dance floor as long as a certain golden haired beauty went along as well.  The look that she gave Mor clearly expressed her disinterest.

Laughing, she said, “I’ll take that as a no. Rhys, care to join me?”  

“I think I’ll stay here and keep Feyre company.”  

Mor rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.”  Rhys watched her prance towards the dance floor, shaking his head and laughing. Realizing he was now alone with Feyre, his stomach did a little flip.

He turned his attention to Feyre and purred, “Alone at last. Whatever shall we do?”  He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.   

 She snorted and replied, “You are such a shameless flirt!”  He smirked at her. Oh, she thought he was shameless, huh?  Well, he would show her exactly how shameless he could be.    

“Only with you, Feyre darling.  It seems that I just can’t help myself when you're around.”  She raised an eyebrow and he continued, “I think the only solution is for the two of us to go out to dinner sometime.”  His heart beat wildly in his chest and he nervously waited for her response.

Feyre refused to make eye contact with him, choosing instead to study her nails.  She shrugged her shoulders and said indifferently, “I really don’t think my boyfriend would think that is a good idea.”   

As her words finally sunk in, Rhys felt the world collapse around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and constructive feedback is always welcome! :)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	5. The Truth Comes Out

A boyfriend? She has a boyfriend? This had to be a joke.  A Cauldron damned joke!  There was simply no way that Mor would have gone to all of the trouble of getting them to meet if Feyre had a boyfriend.  Right?  Maybe Feyre wasn’t being serious. She couldn’t be serious!  Rhys struggled to keep his face void of anything, an empty mask to hide the frenzy of emotions he was now feeling. 

He said in a hollow voice, “You have a boyfriend?  Neither you nor Mor mentioned that.” He plastered a smile on his face and said, “ So, who’s the lucky fellow?”  The words tasted like ash in his mouth.  Her eyes finally lifted and met his.  It was a challenge maintain contact with her blue-grey orbs.  

“Yes, I have a boyfriend,” she said as she looked away again, absentmindedly spinning her glass on the table. A look of disappointment flashed across her face. No that couldn't be right. He was definitely losing it. She drained her glass before she continued, “He’s a stockbroker.  He took over his father’s business a few years ago, after he died.”  She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply. “Mor can’t stand him, though I don’t understand why. I mean, she hasn’t even met him for Cauldron’s sake.”  She loosed another sigh and rested her chin in her hand, her elbow propped up on the table.  “I’ve tried to get her to meet him a hundred times but she always says no.  For some reason, she hates him.  That’s probably why she didn’t tell you.”  

Rhys was desperately trying to make sense of everything that had been said in the past few minutes.  He ran his hand through his hair, searching for something to say.  They sat in an awkward silence for a moment until she said, “I’m going to get another drink from the bar. You want one?”  

Rhys gave her a half hearted smirk and said, “I thought you were done serving me drinks tonight, darling.”  He was glad to see the corners of her mouth twitch up.  He just wanted things to be easy between them again.  

“Prick!” she snapped at him, though without much heat behind it, as she gracefully stood up and headed over to the bar.  Rhys watched as she walked away before covering his face with his hands.  He groaned loudly.  He had made such a complete and utter fool of himself tonight. He was going to kill Mor. He didn’t understand why his cousin had done this to him.  What the hell? Ugh, this explained why she had looked guilty when he was trying to get information from her about Feyre.  Mor had known that she had a boyfriend and hadn’t said anything to him.  He didn’t know how long he sat there, shrouded in despair.  He only dropped his hands from his face when he heard the faint clicking of high heels approaching.  

As he watched Feyre draw near, he noted that she carried a beer bottle in one hand and something that resembled a pink martini in the other.  She stopped in front of him and held out a drink for him.  Not the beer.  Oh no.  Instead, she offered him the very pink concoction that included one of those tiny little umbrellas.  He looked questioningly up at her and her face broke into a mischievous grin.

“You never said specifically what kind of a drink you wanted,” she said with a smirk.  “So I took the liberty of ordering you something… fun.”     

Rhys took the offered drink with what he was sure was a stunned look on his face.  He set the drink carefully on the table and caught Feyre’s smug expression as she sat down.  He tilted back his head and barked out a laugh.  Maybe things weren’t completely hopeless.  After all, they could still be friends. And being her friend was infinitely better than being her nothing at all.  

Still laughing slightly, he picked up the drink and hesitantly took sip.  He grimaced at the taste.  Feyre raised an eyebrow and drawled, “Is there a problem with the drink?”  She raised her beer to her mouth and took a drink, smiling into the bottle as she did so.

“Cruel, beautiful woman,” he said. Rhys loved her wicked sense of humor and how she kept him on his toes. He was just grateful that things were no longer so awkward between them.  

On a whim, he reached his hand out and demanded, “Give me your phone.”  

“No. And why do you want it?” she asked suspiciously. 

He waved his hand at her, a gesture that clearly said  _ give it to me, _ and crooned, “Come on. Hand it over.”

With narrowed eyes, she reached into her purse, pulled out her phone, and placed it in his outstretched hand. She huffed, “If you break it, I’m sure I can get Mor on my side and we’ll make you regret it.” 

“You, Feyre darling, have trust issues. I’m not going to break your phone. I’m putting my number in your contacts.  Then you can call me when you’re desperate to see me again,” Rhys said with a cocky grin.

She looked at him warily. “Boyfriend.  Remember?”

He curled his lip in feigned disgust. “Ewww!  Gross. Not even. We are friends now, right? Don’t friends have coffee together and stuff like that?”  Though it pained him to pretend not to be romantically interested in her, he was glad to see that the wariness had vanished from Feyre’s face.  She rolled her eyes at him as he continued, “In order to make arrangements for coffee, one must have the other’s phone number.” He tore his gaze from her face and turned his attention to the phone.  He quickly added a new contact and entered his cell phone number.  He intended to give the phone right back to her but stopped himself. A devilish smile found its way onto his face.  He opened up her messaging app and sent himself a text from her phone. Now he would have her number too.

Feyre looked at him and snarled, “What is that look for? What did you do?  What are you looking at?”

He put a hand on his chest and said with mock indignation, “Me? I did nothing.” He held out his hand and offered her the phone, which she took and frantically began scrolling through.  

He shrugged his shoulders and said as innocently as he could, “I may or may not have sent a text to myself from your phone so I could have your number too.”

He was expecting her to be upset about sending her number to himself.  What he wasn't expecting was the relieved look that she gave him as she said, “Thank the Cauldron. For a second there I thought you had been looking through my pictures.”   

His eyebrows shot up. “Why would you not want me to look through your photos, Feyre darling?” he purred.  

Her cheeks immediately turned a deep shade of red and she stuttered, “Umm… uhhhhh…. no reason.”

Rhys held his hand back out, laughing so hard he could hardly say, “Give me the phone back.  I have got to see what could make you turn so red.”  

She turned an even deeper shade of red  and huffed, “No way, prick.”  She slid the phone back into her purse and drained half her beer.  He thought she was absolutely adorable when embarrassed.  Mor interrupted his train of thoughts as she skipped over the table and sat down.  He couldn’t help the feelings of betrayal that washed over him as he looked at his cousin. They couldn’t get into this now. Not with Feyre still sitting here.  He could be civil, for now.  There would be time later to confront his cousin.   

Mor smiled brightly at the two of them and said, “Next time we come, I’m dragging both of your asses on the dance floor!”  

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Feyre said full of snark.  

Mor waved her hand haughtily and said, “You are no fun.”  Noticing that her drink was empty, she grabbed the almost untouched pink monstrosity in front of him. She gulped down half the glass and then proceeded to spit out the drink all over the tabletop. “What the hell is this?” she asked in utter dismay.  He and Feyre looked at each other and burst out laughing.  

Mor looked between the two of them and asked, “What did I miss?”  This prompted another round of cackling laughter.  Mor seemed a bit put out at not knowing why they were laughing so hard. 

At the sound of a phone beeping, all three of them reached for their phones.  Rhys and Feyre both finally calmed down enough to stop giggling like fools.  Rhys glanced at his phone and saw the only notification was a text from an unknown number. He smiled at the knowledge that he was now in possession of Feyre’s phone number. 

The smile vanished immediately when he noticed the expression on her face. Feyre was staring at her phone in complete and utter horror. 

“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked, leaning forward in his seat. 

She didn’t move her eyed off the phone as she stammered, “Shit. I have to go. Now.” Her hands were shaking as she grabbed her purse from the back of her chair.  

Before Feyre was able to stand, Mor stopped her by placing a hand on her elbow.  “Fey, what is it?” Concern was etched into every one of his cousin’s features. 

“Nothings wrong. I just have to go. I didn’t realize how late it was.”  Mor removed her hand and said, “Are you sure?  You seem really upset.”

Feyre tried, and failed, to smile and said, “Yeah. I’m good. It’s just that I should already be at home.  Don’t worry about it, ok.  I’ll call you later.”

He watched as she bolted for the exit and soon disappeared. Something just didn’t feel right. Why had she freaked out and ran away? She had been… scared.  Genuinely scared of something.  He caught himself before asking Mor about it. Right. Mor.  He narrowed his eyes at her and straightened the lapels of his jacket.  He couldn't have this conversation now.  Not with being so on edge after the way Feyre had left.  He should just go home before saying something stupid. 

Rhys pulled a few bills from his wallet and threw them on the table and snapped out, “That ought to be enough to cover a taxi. Good night, Morrigan.” He pushed back his chair and gave his cousin a withering glare.  He turned around and stalked towards the entrance Feyre had just ran out of. Before he could get far though, Mor grabbed his shoulder and jerked him backwards, forcing him to stop.

She bit out, “What the hell, Rhys?” She put her hands on her hips and looked like she was preparing for a good, long fight. 

“Seriously, Mor? You want to get into this now? Fine.” He slammed his hands into his pockets and faced her fully. “Why didn’t you tell me that she had a boyfriend?”  

Mor visibly paled and stuttered out, “She.. she told you?”   

“Yes,” he ground out. “Though I’d like to know why you didn’t.”  

Her shoulders dropped as though some heavy weight was pushing them down.  She looked at him beseechingly. She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for the worst, and said, “It’s Tamlin. Her boyfriend is Tamlin.”     

Rhys was only able to mutter one word. Just one word before he was wholly and completely consumed by a deep, unending rage. “Fuck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please leave constructive feedback! I'm trying to improve my writing, so let me know if there are mistakes or anything to improve upon. Of course, feel free to leave comments on what you liked as well! lol
> 
> Should I write a chapter in Feyre's point of view or stick with Rhys? What do you think?? 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	6. Coffee and Musketeers

Rhys spun on his heels and stalked out of the club.  He didn’t hear Mor calling after him. He barely felt the chill of the early November air.  The only thing he was aware of was the pounding in his head and the white hot anger burning through him.  

“Rhys! Please. Stop. Please stop!” Mor begged from somewhere behind him.

He kept walking, practically running at this point.  He didn’t know where he was going, nor did he care. The only thing that mattered was her.  Feyre. With him.  His greatest enemy.  It all made perfect sense now.  Why Feyre thought that Mor hated her boyfriend for no reason.  Why Mor had refused to meet him.  The fear in her eyes before she had run out of the club.  The thought hit him like a physical blow.  She was scared.  He was supposed to be her boyfriend, and she was terrified of him.  Fucking Tamlin.  

He didn’t know how long he had been walking nor how far he had traveled.  His burning anger slowly began to turn into an icy fear.  Tamlin wouldn’t actually harm Feyre, would he? No. Tamlin was a monster, but not like that. Rhys wouldn’t let _him_ hurt her. Ever.  A string of vicious curse words that would have made Amren proud tumbled out of his mouth as he halted his walking.  Grabbing fistfulls of his hair, he stood in the middle of the sidewalk trying to get control of his tumultuous emotions.  As his jagged breathing slowly returned to normal and his senses returned to him, he realized two things.  The first was that Mor had indeed followed him and had nearly caught up.  The second was that he had absolutely no idea where he was.  He shoved his hands into his pockets and dropped his gaze, his chin practically touching his chest as his cousin drew near.  Mor threw her arms around him and, after a heartbeat, he reluctantly returned her hug.  

She said onto his neck, “I’m sorry.”

He stepped out of her embrace, shaking his head, “I just don’t understand.  What did you think was going to happen? She would see me and immediately dump Tamlin?” he spat out the name like the most vile of insults.

She had the audacity to snort and say, “No. Nothing like that.” She smiled kindly at him before saying, “I knew you would fall for her right away. And I knew she would like you too.” She threw up a hand to stop him from interrupting, which he was most certainly about to do.  “She does like you, whether she’s ready to face it or not.”  She rolled her eyes. “Honestly. I don’t know who is more blind… you or her.  I saw the way she was looking at you- the exact same way you were looking at her.”  

Mor had some nerve to spew out that nonsense about Feyre reciprocating his feelings.  She had made her lack of any interest in him, besides friendship, quite clear tonight.  Not allowing him any time to spit this out, Mor continued, “I introduced the two of you now because, well,  this is Tamlin we’re talking about. It’s only a matter of time before he does something stupid and she breaks it off with him.”

Rhys bitterly spat out, “I love you, but that has got to be the stupidest plan I have ever heard.”

Mor flung out her hands and set them on her hips, huffing, “Ok, so my plan may not have been completely perfect.  But you don’t need to be a dick about it!”  Rhys crossed his arms over his chest and gave her an incredulous look.  She loosed a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly.  She pinched the bridge of her nose and said, “You’re right. I should have told you. It was a shit plan.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” he ground out, though with a tad less anger.  

Mor rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, saying, “Now that you’ve calmed down, can we please go somewhere a little warmer to talk? I’m freezing my ass off!”

“Yeah. Let’s go get some coffee.  But...” he said looking around with a slightly embarrassed expression, “Where are we and how do we get back to the car?”

*******

Rhys unlocked the door to his apartment and staggered inside.  He and Mor had spent nearly an hour sitting in a dinner drinking coffee that tasted like mud and discussing everything that had transpired that evening.  He had eventually forgiven his cousin for withholding the truth from him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed as hell about it.  Not to mention he was still worried about his… about Feyre.  Mor seemed to think that she would be fine, but he had to know for sure.  He filled a glass with water from the sink and flopped down on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table.  Would it be safe to text her if she was with _him?_  He battled with himself for a moment longer before finally deciding to send a text to check in on her.  

_Hello Darling! Just wanted to make sure you made it home safely.  Let me know! :)_

He didn’t have to wait long before his phone pinged in response.  He opened up the message to discover a new group text named The Three Musketeers. His stomach did a little flip when he saw Feyre’s number.  Smiling widely, he opened the message and discovered that the group text consisted of him, Feyre, and Mor. Oh, this could be interesting, he mused.  

 ** _Feyre Darling:_** _You guys are a bunch of mother hens!  I got messages from both of you within minutes of each other asking if I made it home ok._

She was alright! Rhys let out a relieved breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.  

 **_The Queen:_ ** _You know you love our overprotective tendencies! ;)_

He couldn’t help but snort at his cousin.  And not only at her smartass mouth.  The Queen?  Obviously Mor had gotten into his phone at some point tonight and made a few changes.   It did suit her, if he was being honest with himself.

 _Really Mor? You stole my phone and changed your name to The Queen? A little conceited, don’t you think?_   

 **_The Queen:_ ** _I didn’t steal it. It’s not my fault you left it on the table when you went to the restroom.  I resent your accusations!_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Besides, I think it’s rather appropriate, don’t you agree Fey?_

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** _Oh yes! You do like to order people around! ALL THE TIME! Hehe_

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** _BTW Rhysee Poo- I saved you in my contacts as Prince Prick, since we’re going with the whole royalty thing._

 **_The Queen:_ ** _HAHAHA!!_ I knew there was a reason we’re besties! I’m changing Rhys’s name in my contacts to _Prince Prick_ right now!  

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _I knew being outnumbered by females was a bad idea!_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Oh, poor baby!_

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** _It’s late. I’m gonna go to bed. Night assholes!_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Love you too, bitch! ;)_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _I need new friends_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Fuck off, cousin._

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _You know you love me, Mor!_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Not as much as you love me!_

Rhys felt a smile tugging at his lips.  He felt slightly better since receiving the text messages.  He could almost hear Feyre’s sassy voice as he reread the thread. At least she was safe. For now. He sighed and closed the group text. He clicked her name and glanced at the first message he had sent her tonight. He ran a hand through his hair, hesitating.  Was she really ok? Would she tell them if something was wrong? Making up his mind at last, he sent another message just to her.

_Are you sure you’re ok? You know you can talk to me anytime you need to._

After a full minute of staring at his phone waiting her response, he decided to call it a night.  He was exhausted after everything that had happened, both emotionally and physically.  He was just climbing into bed when her response finally came.

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** _Yes, I’m fine. I am capable of taking care of myself, you know._

Her irritation was palpable, even through the text.  He chuckled as he sent his response.  

_I know you can, darling. I was just worried about you._

**_Feyre Darling:_ ** _I’m sorry if I scared you and Mor with how I left tonight. I’m fine, really._

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** _Thanks for checking in on me, though. You and Mor are good friends.  Good night, Prick._

_Good night, darling!_

Rhys tossed his phone on the nightstand beside him and rested his hands behind his head.  No matter how hard he tried not to, his thoughts kept circling back to Feyre.  She was so completely perfect, it was unreal.  She was smart, funny, not to mention sexy as hell.  And she didn’t mind calling him out on his shit.  Cauldron, could Mor be right about Feyre liking him too? Do not go there, he chided himself.  He was firmly, permanently sitting in the friend-zone. But…. maybe…. No. He couldn’t get his hopes up.  A frustrated groan escaped him and he buried his head in the pillow.  Muttering a curse under his breath, he rolled over and tried to push her out of his head… again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! :)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	7. Birthday Invitation

Rhys gazed out of his office window with a satisfied look on his face.  The magnificent view of the river, the Sidra, was one of the biggest perks of having this particular office.  It was, in fact, one of the many reasons he had chosen this building years ago when he had first created the company. Velaris was not nearly as large in comparison to the publishing giants of Prythian, by any means.  However, thanks to the hard work of his inner circle, their company was doing well.  Quite well, actually.  The latest projections estimated they would be able to publish considerably more books in the upcoming quarter than they had anticipated.  

He casually propped his feet onto his desk and reclined back in his chair.  He glanced at the report Amren had left for him on the corner of his desk and grudgingly picked it up.  She had been rather pissy when she had stormed in and demanded he handle a particularly pesky situation for her before she showed the ungrateful author where exactly he could shove his book.  Apparently, she had been unable to come to an agreement with said author, which was an unusual occurrence.  Amren had a way of getting what she wanted, no matter who she was up against.  As he skimmed the report, his eyes narrowed.  They were fighting over the quality, or lack thereof according to the author, of the design of the book cover.  He pursed his lips to keep from groaning.  Authors could become highly tempestuous if they felt like the cover didn’t convey the message of their story properly.  He’d have to schedule a meeting with Nuala, the head of the art department, later in the week and see what they could figure out.              

Rhys’s attention was pulled away from the report by the sound of his phone.  His heart skipped a beat as he reached for the device. He had texted Feyre a few hours ago but she had yet to respond.  In the few weeks since meeting Feyre, his time had been occupied by two very different, yet equally important tasks- his various responsibilities at Velaris and texting Feyre.  He attempted to stifle the disappointment he felt upon seeing that the text was not from her after all, but from Mor.

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Is it cool if I invite Feyre to your birthday party Friday?_   

Shit. He had completely forgotten.  Rhys wasn’t one who enjoyed everyone making a huge deal out his birthday.  Not that he hated his birthday or anything like that, but it was just bad timing.  November 20- just a few days before Thanksgiving. People were either busy preparing to host guests or getting ready to travel. He didn’t want anyone to have to add any more to the already hectic few days prior to the holiday.  But Mor had insisted that they at least have a family dinner.  He eventually conceded to her demands and agreed to dinner with her, Amren, Cass, and Az.  Though technically his birthday wasn't until Monday, Mor insisted they celebrate Friday evening.    

What would Feyre make of their little family?  She definitely would be able to hold her own against the poking and teasing that was sure to be a part of the evening.  He snickered at the thought of her going up against Cassian in a verbal sparring match.  Poor guy wouldn’t know what he was in for until it was too late.  The grin slipped from his face.  And then Rhys would have to spend the rest of the night watching Cass flirting endlessly with his… with Feyre.  Asshole.  But she wouldn’t be interested… Surely she wouldn't flirt back... No.  He was being absurd.  Regardless, he had to admit he was thrilled at the idea of being able to see Feyre again.

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Sure. If you want to invite her, go ahead.  I don’t mind._

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Oh please. Don’t pretend that you're not jumping up and down in that pretentious little office of yours!!_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Pretentious? You wound me._

 **_The Queen:_ ** _I wound you????  Male egos are such delicate, fragile things…._

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Nice job of deflecting the conversation, by the way._

Cauldron, She was insufferable. Of course she knew just how much he wanted to see Feyre again.  She always had been able to read him like a book.

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Whatever do you mean, dearest cousin?_

Mor texted back, but it wasn’t the smartass reply he was expecting. He opened up the group text and read her latest message.

 **_The Queen:_ ** Hey Fey- A few of us are having dinner Friday night for Rhys’s birthday.  Care to join us???

Rhys glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, which read 5:30.  There was little chance of him being able to do anything productive in the foreseeable future. Deciding to call it a day, Rhys stowed his laptop in his bag and hoisted the strap over a shoulder.  He gathered his phone and keys and headed towards the door.  He stopped dead in his tracks in the center of his office when his phone chimed.     

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** When and where? And who will be there?

He responded immediately.

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** Don’t worry, darling. It’ll just be Mor and our friends Cassian, Amren, Azriel. And of course, yours truly.  I know you’ve missed me! ;)

 **_The Queen:_ ** Rhys!  I actually want Fey to come, so don’t be a prick!

 **_The Queen:_ ** 7:30 at The Mountain. Think you can make it?

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** I get off work at 6, so I should be able to make it.

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** How old will you be now Rhysee Poo? 40?  45?  :P

“Ok, Rhys. Time to fess up.  Who is she and when do we get to meet her?”

His head snapped up and found Cassian casually leaning against the door frame with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What they hell are you talking about?” he retorted.

Cass crossed his arms over his chest and lifted a brow as he declared, “Do not act stupid, Rhys. I know you better than most people do. I’ve seen how you've been acting these past few weeks. You’ve been distracted- off in your own little world.  Not to mention the enamored look you get on your face every time you look at your phone.  The same expression you had about a minute ago.” Cassian smirked at him as though he knew he had just won.  “So, again brother, I’ll ask you. Who is she and when do we get to meet her?”

“It’s not what you think.” Rhys ignored Cass’s disbelieving look and continued, “She’s a friend of Mor’s, though she’s older- around our age.”  He scowled as he divulged, “She has a boyfriend and, as such, she is just a friend.”

“But you would like to be more than just friends if this girl suddenly found herself without a boyfriend. Right?”

“Mind your own business, Cassian.” he ground out.

Cassian just tipped his head back and roared in laughter, hardly able to get out,  “You’ve got it bad, man. What’s the lucky lady’s name?”

“Feyre. Her name is Feyre and everyone will meet her Friday at dinner.”  Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose as he pleaded, “Cassian, please do not do anything stupid.” He paused. Should he let Cassian in on the fact that Feyre’s boyfriend was Tamlin?  Probably.  Cass and Az hated Tamlin almost as much as he did.  Otherwise, there was no telling what his brothers might do in a misguided attempt to get him together with Feyre.

“Look Cass, don’t make a big deal out of it or anything, but Feyre is currently dating Tamlin.”

Cassian, to his credit, took in the news better than Rhys had anticipated. He asked with incredulity, “Tamlin?”

“Yup.”

“As in Tamlin. Our enemy, Tamlin.”

“The one and only.”

“Does Feyre know….”

“No. I don’t think she knows anything. She met Mor in an art class and they became friends.  I don’t think it has ever come up.”

“Shit!”

“Yeah. Shit is right.”

Cassian smiled fondly at him and promised, “Don’t worry brother. We’ll help you get your girl.”

Rhys groaned. That is exactly what he had been afraid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked the chapter! Don't for get to comment and leave feedback. :)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	8. The Family Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! This was originally going to be part of the previous chapter but it turned out a lot longer than I had anticipated. So this week you get two chapters! Enjoy!

The rest of the week flew by rather uneventfully. Rhys was pretty sure that Cassian had spoken to both Amren and Az about Feyre, considering the looks he kept getting from the three of them. Nosey pricks! He, Az, Cass, and Amren were currently seated at a round table in a private little room of The Mountain, one of his favorite restaurants.  Their table was enclosed by three stone wall mosaics.  The entrance to their little alcove came equipped with an amethyst colored curtain that could be closed for more privacy.  Mor certainly never did anything half-assed, that’s for sure.  The space was undeniably beautiful.  He adjusted the lapels of his jacket again and checked his watch.  Where were they? Mor and Feyre had made plans to come together tonight and they should have been here by now.    

“Stop fidgeting. You look fine,” Az sneered. 

“Oh, feeling a little nervous, are we?” Cass taunted, giving him a saccharine smile.

Leaning forward in his seat, Rhys placed his hands on the table and spat out vehemently, “Listen, you promised you would behave yourself this evening. If you can’t do that, then…” He paused to take a deep breath and to calm himself down, lest he say something he would end up regretting.  He continued, “Just be on your best behavior. Just for tonight. Please.”

Amren answered for the three of them by snickering, “Don’t worry Rhysand.  I’ll make sure the children behave themselves tonight.”  Cass and Az looked grossly offended but Rhys just chuckled at her words.  Before Cass could open up his mouth to say anything in retaliation, Mor flounced through the entrance and waltz over to the table.  She grabbed Rhys into a one armed hug, seeing that her other hand was holding tightly onto a brightly wrapped package.  When his cousin finally let him go, his eyes went straight to Feyre.   She was wearing a light blue dress that accentuated her body in all the right places.  Her hair was hanging down her back in wavy curls. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered, if that was possible.

She sauntered up to him and purred, “Happy birthday, Rhys.”  

“Glad you could make it, Feyre Darling.”  he purred right back.  Deciding it was worth the risk, he stood up and pulled her into a hug.  For just a moment, just one moment, he let himself enjoy the feeling of her being in his arms. He tried, he really did try, not to bury his face in her hair. Cauldron, she smelled divine.  He reluctantly let her go and stepped out of her tantalizing scent.  

“Here. This is for you.” she sputtered rather nervously as she handed him a large, flat, rectangular package.  

Rhys looked at her dumbfounded. “You got me a present? You didn’t have to.”  He ignored the pointed looks that his friends and cousin were giving each other, the assholes, and focused on Feyre.  To his delight, he noticed that her ears and cheeks were becoming a delicious shade of pink.  He smiled devilishly at her. She was adorable when she was nervous. 

She crossed her arms and huffed, “It’s not too late for me to give the gift to Mor, you prick.”

His friends, the traitors that they were, began laughing. 

“Oh, I like her,”  Amren declared enthusiastically. 

Mor came and took Feyre by the arm, saying, “Come on. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”  Mor pointed in Rhys’s direction and sniffed, “You know that prick.”  Mor then motioned to the only female sitting at the table. “That’s Amren.  She’s second in command at Velaris and oversees all of the contracts.”  Feyre’s eyebrows shot up at that. 

Mor grinned fiendishly.  “But not to worry. She’ll be bumped down as soon as I graduate and take her place.”

Amren just rolled her eyes and snarked, “I’d like to see you try, girl.”

Mor continued with the introductions, “Next to Amern is Cassian.  He’s in charge of security.”

Feyre shook his hand and said cordially, “Pleased to meet you, Cassian.”

“Please, call me Cass.” He smiled broadly at her and to Rhys’s horror said, “We’re excited to finally meet you.  We’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“And what exactly has Mor told you about me?” Feyre asked with an amused expression.  She looked at Mor and raised a brow.   

“Well, actually…”

Before Cass could finish that damning sentence, Mor cut in, “Moving on.”  She ignored the questioning look Feyre was giving her as she pointed to Az, who was seated on Cass’s other side. “That’s Azriel. He, well, he does a lot of different things at Velaris actually.  He’s in charge of computers and technology.  He also is in charge of making sure that Rhys doesn’t kill Cassian.”

Unsurprisingly, Az did not offer his hand for Feyre to shake.  Rhys saw her glance at his hands, but if she noticed the scars she didn’t give any indication. Az smiled warmly and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Feyre.” She gave him a warm smile in return.  Az had a way of putting people at ease.  It was one of his many, many talents.  

Rhys had taken the gift from Feyre and leaned it up against the wall.  He eyed it with interest.  Through the wrapping paper, he had felt a frame of some type.  Maybe she had gotten him a picture of some sort to hang up.  Hmmm…..  it could go up in his office.  He couldn’t wait to find out what it was.  He brought his attention back to the conversation as he returned to his seat next to Az.  This left two open seats that were next to each other at the table- the one to Amren’s right and the one to Rhys’s left.  By some miracle, Mor took the chair next to Amren which left the only open seat for Feyre right next to him.  His stomach fluttered a little at the thought of being so close to her all night long. 

Cassian gave her a wicked smile and taunted, “Have a seat Feyre. We don’t bite. Much.”

Feyre quirked her eyebrow and sniffed, “Hmmm…. All talk and no action.  How very disappointing.”  Cass tipped his head back and roared in laughter.

So far, so good.  Everyone seemed to be getting along. That was a good sign.  A very good sign.    

As Feyre joined them at the table, the waitress came around with the menus and took their drink orders.  Champagne for everyone- Mor had insisted.  Rhys noticed Feyre squirming in her chair and peered at her through the corner of his eyes.  She was scanning the menu, looking extremely uncomfortable.  Oh crap.  She obviously wasn’t used to going to restaurants like this and was probably concerned about the price. That was a problem that could be fixed easily.  

He leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Order whatever you want, Darling. I’m footing the bill for the evening.”

She gave him a reproachful look, “Isn’t it your birthday? Why are you the one paying?”

He smirked at her, “Because I can.”

She rolled her eyes and stated, “You are not paying for my dinner.”

“The waitress has already been told that I’m taking care of the bill.  It’s not going to do you any good to argue at this point, Feyre Darling,” he said rather merrily.  “And just in case you’re thinking of being difficult, they have my credit card on file.  I can tell the waitress to not even bring out a check. If I need to.” He gave her a pointed look. 

“Prick.”  

“Seriously, though. Don’t worry about the bill. Just enjoy the evening.”

Feyre bit her bottom lip before reluctantly nodding her head. “Ok. Thank you.”

“It’s no big deal. Really.”  Rhys gave her a genuinely happy smile and offered her some truth, “I’m glad you came tonight.  So is Mor.  She’s been wanting to introduce you to the rest of the family for a while now.”       

She furrowed her brows and glanced around the table asking, “Family? I thought you said that Mor was your only family.”

Before Rhys could answer her question, the waitress returned with a tray barring glasses of champagne.  Once everyone had a glass, the she went around to take their food orders.  As per usual, Rhys was getting a steak. When Feyre’s turn came around, Rhys was expecting her to order a salad or some other inexpensive item.  What he hadn’t been expecting was for her to order the lobster, one of the most expensive dishes on the menu.  He looked at her with an incredulous expression.

“What?” she asked innocently.  “You said I could order whatever I wanted.” She gave him a devious grin as she took a sip from her champagne.  

“Right you are, Feyre Darling.”  Gods, he loved her wicked sense of humor.   

“So, back to my previous question. How are you all related?” Feyre asked.  Cassian, of course, saw this as an opportunity to butt into the conversation. 

“Well, we’re not actually family by blood.  Except Rhys and Mor.  They really are cousins. The rest of us, aren't actually related.  Az, Rhys, and I grew up together, though.  Rhys’s mom, Rhoswen, took me in when I was 7.  I had been living on the streets for a few months after my mom abandoned me.” Feyre gasped and covered her hand with her mouth, her face horror stricken.  Everyone else at the table already knew the story and were listening again with grim expressions on their faces. Cass continued, “She had become addicted to drugs and couldn't take care of herself, let alone me.  Needless to say, the early days of my life were shit.  I woke up one day and she was just… gone.”  He shrugged his shoulders.  To anyone else, he looked like he didn't have a care in the world.  Only those at this table, who knew him best, could tell how much telling this story hurt him.  “I never knew who my father was.  Never met the man.  After my mom left, I was on my own for a bit.  Scraping by just to survive. Then Rhoswen found me and took me in.  Gave me a home, a family.” He cocked his head towards Azriel, adding, “Az was the next stray that she took in.”  

Rhys looked around the small group of people sitting at the table and thought, not for the first time, that he was really lucky to have each and every one of them in his life.     

Feyre’s eyes darted down to Az’s hands and back up to his face.  She seemed to realize that Az wasn’t comfortable talking about the burns and didn’t ask him to explain. Instead she asked tactfully, “How old were you when you went to stay with Rhys’s family?”

Rhys watched the expression on his brother’s face carefully as he said, “I was 8 when Rhoswen rescued me and brought me to live with the family.  Reiterating what Cass had said earlier, my home life before that was complete shit.”

Noticing Az’s discomfort, Rhys jumped in, “We all couldn’t stand each other at first. We were constantly bickering and competing for my mother’s attention.”

“Rhys, you were such a dorky little shit,” Cass crowed. “Always reading your books and comics.”    

“Like you can talk.  You were the one with the Star Wars obsession,” Az snorted.  Talking about his past never got any easier for Az.  Though Rhys hoped that one day it might.  At least he looked a little less haunted now.

“Hey! Star Wars is still way cool!” Cass declared indignantly. 

Rhys rolled his eyes at his brothers and continued with the story, “It took us a few years to start getting along and became friends.  We finally figured out that we do better together than separately.” 

Cass clapped Az on the back and said, “Now these two pricks are more than friends to me. They’re brothers.”  

Az glared and Cassian’s offending arm and sighed, shaking his head slightly. 

Rhys pointed to Mor, saying, “This one was always hanging around the house, too.  We couldn’t seem to get rid of her, no matter how hard we tried”

“Oh, please. Like you nerds would have had any fun without me around!” she retorted.     

“Yeah, because tea parties and ponies are sooo much fun,” Cass said sarcastically, resting his elbows on the table.  Mor sat up straighter and was preparing to lay in to Cass. 

Feyre must have sensed that a war was brewing between the two because she looked at Amren and said, “Did you grow up with everyone as well?”

“No, girl. I didn’t grow up with these idiots.”  

Rhys felt himself bristle at Feyre being called a girl. He would have to have words with Amren later about that. If Amren noticed his ire, she paid him no mind and continued, “I meet Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand in college. After graduation, Rhys asked me to join Velaris. I agreed.” 

Rhys couldn’t help but to roll his eyes. Short and to the point, but no less dramatic. 

Enticing smells entered the room just before two gentlemen appeared with their food.  The conversation ceased for a short time as they all dug in and enjoyed their entrees.  

“How’s the lobster, Darling?”

“It’s wonderful.  Thank you again for paying. How’s your steak?” 

Rhys waved his hand dismissively, “It’s no problem. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”  He got a devious look on his face. “The steak is delicious, by the way. Just like you in that dress. I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look this evening,” Rhys purred.  Just like he had anticipated, Feyre’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.  He could have sworn he heard Az fake coughing in order to conceal a laugh.  

She turned away from him muttering, “Shameless, flirting prick.”

Before he could continue the conversation, Az said, “So Feyre. Tell us a little about yourself. Mor mentioned the two of you met in an art class.” 

Feyre smiled shyly before saying, “Yup. I’m an art major at the University. I’ll be graduating in May, thank the Cauldron.  I’m hoping to open my own gallery at some point in the future. I work part time at this fancy gallery downtown.  You know- trying to make connections and get my foot in the door.” She scoffed before continuing, “So far, it hasn’t worked too well though.”

Cass asked, “What do you do at the gallery? I’ll admit, I don’t know the first thing about them.”

For some reason, Feyre turned the deepest shade of red and stammered, “Umm… well, you know… paperwork and stuff.”

Cassian scented blood. “Oh come now, Feyre. You can tell us!” he cajoled. 

Feyre looked utterly mortified as she mumbled, “I work as a security guard- making sure no one damages the art.”  

“I knew I liked you for a reason.  Do you know any self- defense? Did they give you any training?” Cass looked as though he had won the lottery. 

Feyre glanced around the table and seemed surprised no one was mocking her. That was strange.  Rhys wondered why she seemed slightly ashamed of her job.  He was pretty sure he knew the reason why. Fucking Tamlin.  Rhys felt rage begin to consume him.  He would bet good money that  _ he  _ didn’t think the job was good enough for a girlfriend of  _ his _ . Asshat. 

Feyre looked back at Cass and said, “Well, I didn’t get much training.  We watched a video. That’s about all.”  Rhys felt himself calming down as he watched the interaction between his brother and Feyre.  

Cass grinned fiendishly at her and stated, “Well, you’re in luck. It just so happens that I’m the best in Prythian, not to mention the most handsome.” He gave her a cheeky wink, saying, “I’d be more than happy to teach you some stuff, if your interested.”

She gave him a look, considering, “I’ll think about it and let you know. I appreciate the offer, though.”   

Just when Rhys thought he couldn’t eat another bite, in walks the waitress with a gigantic chocolate cake.  Mor lead the others in a horrific rendition of Happy Birthday, which had them laughing so hard they were nearly in tears. 

As they enjoyed the cake, Mor asked Feyre about her plans for the upcoming holiday.

Feyre rolled her eyes and grumbled, “I’m going to Nesta’s for dinner.  Elain is bringing her boyfriend Graysen, so it’ll be the four of us.  I think she wants to impress her boyfriend so she wants a big, traditional Thanksgiving.”

“Well, good luck. Hope you and Nesta don’t kill each other,” Mor joked.

Feyre huffed, “Honestly, I’m more concerned about Nesta killing Elain’s boyfriend.”  She shook her head.  

What intrigued Rhys, was the fact that Feyre hadn’t said anything about  _ him _ joining her family for the holiday.  Knowing he may come to regret it, he asked, “So the boyfriend won’t be joining in on the family festivities? How unfortunate.”

Feyre loosed a long sigh and said bitterly, “No. He isn’t coming. He and Nesta don’t really get along. He’s going to spend the day at a friend’s house.” She shrugged as though trying to relieve the irritation she was feeling. Rhys had never met Feyre’s sisters.  She actually didn’t talk about them much. He knew there were some definite issues between Feyre and the eldest Archeron sister.  He had to admit though, his opinion of Nesta improved at hearing her dislike of Tamlin. 

“What about you Mor? What are your plans?”    

“Well, the five of us: me, Rhys, Cass, Az, and Amren are going to Rhys’s place for dinner. Nothing too fancy. The usual.”

“Sounds fun. I’m kind of jealous, actually.”

Rhys interjected, “You know you can always join us if your family dinner is too stressful, Darling.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Rhysee Poo. But thanks for the offer,” Feyre simpered. 

Mor pushed away her plate of half- eaten birthday cake and rubbed her stomach in slow circles. “Ugh, I’m so full.” 

There were nods of agreement all around the table.  

Mor suddenly sat up straighter and practically sang, “Presents! Mine first!” She leaned across the table and handed Rhys the colorful package she had brought along.  She was bouncing in her seat, barely able to contain her excitement.  Her mood was contagious.  He tore at the wrapping of the package with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.  His eyes widened at the sight of the first edition, signed copy The Hobbit, of one of his all time favorite books.  Holy shit! 

“Mor, this is amazing! Thank you!”  He couldn’t believe she had gotten him that thoughtful of a gift.  She knew him so well! He stood up and wrapped her in a big bearhug.  He smacked a kiss on her cheek and said, “Thank you. I love it!”

Mor simply gave him a haughty look and said, “I knew you would.  And I expect nothing less than an absolutely amazing gift for my birthday in return.”

He grinned at her. “Deal.”

“Ok. Enough of this sappy crap. Ours next,” Cassian said as he threw an envelope at Rhys, barely missing his head. “It’s from Az and I. Happy birthday, bastard.”

Gods, they better not have gotten him something embarrassing! Both Az and Cassian had matching grins on their faces and soon Rhys found himself grinning like an idiot too.  He opened up the envelope, pulled out the card, and began reading.  He laughed in delight with his two friends and declared, “Hell ya!  This is going to be awesome”

“Ummm…. Care to fill the rest of us in?” Mor hissed.

“They’re taking me fishing,” Rhys informed them.

“Fishing?” Mor inquired. 

“Well, not just fishing.” Cass explained.  “We found this badass cabin in the mountains and rented it for the three of us.  We are going to spend a week in the spring time drinking, fishing, hiking, and more drinking.” He sat back in his chair looking pleased as punch. 

Mor, Feyre, and Amren all exchanged bewildered expressions.  

“It must be a man thing,” Feyre pondered. The three men looked at each other and began laughing.

Amren sniffed, “Ugh. Definitely a man thing. Thank the Cauldron you joined our group tonight, Feyre, or Mor and I would have been completely outnumbered.”  

Mor shook her head vehemently in agreement and muttered, “Boys.”

“Who else has a gift for me?” Rhys hollered.  

“I came tonight. You’re welcome,” Amren retorted, with a serpentine smile.

Everyone at the table, Rhys included, stared at her for a solid fifteen seconds before breaking out into a round of laughter. 

“Well, I guess that just leaves my gift,” Feyre stammered nervously once everyone had calmed down.  

Not that Rhys had been able to forget about the large gift for a moment all night.  He was curious about what was making her so nervous. He carefully collected the gift from where it had been resting and brought it back to the table.  He, ever so carefully, tore open the wrapping paper.  He gazed in awe at what he held in his hands.  It was a beautiful painting of the night sky.  She had painted. For him.  He could clearly see her initials FA etched on the bottom right hand corner of the canvas.  He was completely and utterly floored.  She had told him how much she loved painting but rarely had the time to indulge in anything other than school assignments.  He tore his eyes away from the masterpiece and found Feyre nervously watching him.  She was wiggling side to side in her chair in anticipation. 

“If you don’t like it, I can get you something else or paint something else....”

He gave her a smile that he hoped conveyed everything he was feeling, and croaked, “It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you.”

She looked relieved and visibly relaxed.

“Happy birthday Rhys,” she said softly.  

“Let us see it, jackass,” Cassian drawled.  Rhys reluctantly passed his gift to Az so that the rest of his friends could see the painting.

He leaned over and whispered, “Thank you, Darling.” He brushed his lips against her cheek in the lightest of kisses.  Her skin felt devine!  He was just beginning to pull away when he heard her breath hitch.  His eyes shot up to meet hers. They were close enough that their breaths mingled together.  Rhys glanced down at her lips.  She was biting her lower lip again. Fuck, that was so damn sexy.  He tore his eyes away from her luscious lips and looked back at her eyes.  He couldn’t read the expression on her face.  Was it possible that she felt something for him?  She was almost close enough for him to kiss her lips. He only needed to lean forward an inch or two.

“Damn, Fey. This is amazing! I might have to get you to make me one too!” Mor shrieked.  

And just like that, the moment was gone.  Feyre jerked back in her chair and stammered, “Thanks, Mor.”

Rhys leaned back in his chair and tried to gain some semblance of his self-control back.  He glanced across the table at his friends admiring the painting and began formulating a plan in his head.  A plan that would include him seeing a lot more of Feyre. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to leave any suggestions and feedback. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	9. The Proposition

Rhys mulled over his plan the entire drive back to his apartment. He didn’t think there was any possibility of Feyre saying no. It was foolproof. It was a good opportunity for Feyre, and selfishly, it gave him the chance to see more of her. He entered his apartment and shrugged off his jacket. Pulling out his phone, he flopped down on the couch. Rhys pressed the power button on his phone and waited for the device to boot up. As he expected, there were already several texts from the family group text. Bracing himself for the onslaught, he opened the text thread.

Amren: Just so you know Rhys, I approve of the girl

The Queen: Just wanted to share this juicy detail- he’s in her contacts as Prince Prick!!!

Pain in the Cass: hahaha! I knew I liked her for a reason!

Az: She’s a keeper, Rhys

Pain in the Cass: Rhys and Feyre sitting in a tree…

Az: Oh shut up, Cass. They’re cute together

Pain in the Cass: He’s in deep shit, Az. He needs our help

The Queen: Oh, hell no! You two stay out of it!

The Queen: I mean it, Cassian!

Pain in the Cass: Damn! I’m just trying to help!

Pain in the Cass: I mean, come on! Was I the only one who saw Rhys and Feyre almost make out tonight???  
  
Rhys buried his head in his hands. By the Cauldron, his family was going to be the death of him!

Prince Prick: What the hell Cass?????

Prince Prick: You have officially lost your mind!

Az: You did say she looked delicious

Pain in the Cass: BEST LINE EVER!!!

Pain in the Cass: I am so going to use that!

The Queen: Never thought I’d say this, but I have to agree with Cass...

The Queen: You and Feyre seemed awfully cozy at one point tonight

Prince Prick: I hate you all!

Amren: Shove it. The truth hurts, boy.

Rhys shook his head and closed the text thread. He couldn’t deal with his family right now. He opened up the Three Musketeers group text. He hadn’t heard from Feyre yet. Had Mor dropped her off already?

Prince Prick: Did you lovely ladies make it home alright?

Feyre Darling: Yes, you worrywart.

Feyre Darling: BTW- thanks again for the ride Mor

The Queen: Welcome! Love you, Fey!

The Queen: Well... I guess I love you too cousin

Prince Prick: I know you do. Who wouldn’t?

Feyre Darling: OMG! You 2 are worse than children

Feyre Darling: Thanks again for dinner Rhys. :)

Prince Prick: Anytime Darling! I’m glad you came

The Queen: Me too! We should have family dinners more often.

The Queen: Fey, just so you know… we voted

Feyre Darling: ???????

The Queen: You are officially part of the family now!

Feyre Darling: Should I be honored by that... or scared?

The Queen: HAHAHA!!! ;)

Prince Prick: Both. Definitely both

Feyre Darling: Gotta go. Night y'all

Feyre Darling: Happy bday Rhysee Poo!!

Prince Prick: I’ll let you two get your beauty sleep. Cauldron knows Mor is horribly cranky without it!

The Queen: I’m going to let that one slide since we are celebrating your birthday tonight. Good night ass!

The Queen: Night Fey!

Closing the thread, Rhys picked up his new painting from Feyre. She really was talented! He didn’t remember ever mentioning it to Feyre, but he had always felt a strange attraction to the night sky. There was something about it that made him feel safe. Though it sounded like a contradiction, it made him feel powerful. He set the painting down and decided to call it an evening. Monday.  He would put his plan into action Monday.         

*******

Rhys reclined in his office chair, drumming his fingers on the top of his desk. Everything had been set into motion. He had spoken to Nuala this morning to relay his intentions. She had fallen in love with the painting, just as he had expected. Now, all that remained was calling Feyre and getting her to agree. He had stalled long enough. He picked up his phone and found her number amongst his contacts. Uttering a quick prayer, he pressed the call button. While they had texted multiple times a day, he had never actually spoken to her on the phone. He was so preoccupied with his nervousness, he almost didn’t noticed she had answered.

“Hey prick!”

Holy gods. She had answered the phone! He recovered from his surprise quickly with, “Hello darling! Are you busy right now, or do you have a quick second?”

“I have about 10 minutes before I have to leave for work. What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, Rhys explained his idea to Feyre. And was then met by complete silence. Fuck. That was not a good sign.

“Feyre? Are you still there?” he asked with dread. He had messed up. It had sounded like a good idea at the time. Maybe he hadn’t explained his idea well. Had it been too much?

“You’re joking, right?” she asked, her tone somewhat incredulous. Oh, thank the Cauldron she hadn’t hung up on him.

“No. Not at all. We have some authors who are extremely picky about the artwork on the cover. Even our most seasoned cover designers can’t make them happy. Nuala, she’s the head of the art department, saw your painting and loved it. We thought that a talented artist, such as yourself, would be the answer to our problem.” A half truth. She didn’t need to know that the order of events, as he explained them, weren’t exactly accurate.

“You want me to come work for you?” Feyre asked, her every word laced with confusion.

Rhys stood up and began pacing around his office. “Well, for Velaris… yes. You’d be able to set your own hours each week, depending on your school schedule.” He could tell his voice was taking on a somewhat desperate tone. “You could work from home, if you wanted, and bring the art to the office once you finished. Or you could come to Velaris. We’d set you up a little space in the art department for you to work.” Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

“You’re serious,” she stated, seeming to need reassurance.

“Absolutely.” Serious about spending more time with you, darling.

“You are insane, Rhysand!” she chuckled. Well, she hadn’t said no. That was something, but he still needed an answer.

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes! You are offering me a chance to make art and get paid for it. How in the hell could I say no to that?”

Oh, thank the Cauldron! He felt a big grin worm its way onto his face.

“But…” she paused and Rhys felt as though he had been punched in the gut.

“But?” Why was she hesitating? He wished he knew what she was thinking.

“Even if you’re my boss, I still get to call you a prick.”

Rhys tipped his head back and barked out a laugh, relief pulsing through him. Gods, she was perfect! “Just as long as I still get to call you Feyre Darling. Then you have yourself a deal.”  
  
“Well, then it looks like I’ll need to put in my two week notice when I get to work today.” Feyre’s excitement was palpable, even through the phone.

“Let me know when you’ll have some free time. You’ll have to come into the office to fill out some paperwork.” Rhys could hardly contain his elation.

“Ok. Sounds good. I gotta get to work now, but I’ll text you later!”

“Alright. Bye, Darling.”

“Bye Prick. And thanks! This means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome. Velaris is lucky to have such an amazing artist.”

Feyre snorted, “Even as my boss, you’re still a huge flirt. Talk to you later.”

Rhys hung up the phone and heaved a sigh of relief. She had agreed! Now he had a valid excuse to talk to her, and see her, more often. He ran a hand through his hair and contemplated his next move.

*******

“See, Mor! I told you he needed our help!” Cass sneered, shaking his head. “You really messed this up, Rhys.”

Rhys and his inner circle were lounging around his living room, after having enjoyed an enormous Thanksgiving dinner. He was currently sharing the couch with Az and Amren. Cass had sprawled out across a recliner off to the left while Mor was holding court from the one to the right.

Mor raised a brow and demanded, “Oh really? And tell us, oh wise one. How exactly did he mess anything up?”

Cass scoffed, “He gave her a job at Velaris.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Rhys demanded. He was seriously regretting telling the family anything about his current plans.

“Even if she does eventually break it off with the asshole, Feyre doesn’t seem to strike me as the kind of girl who goes around shagging her boss.”

Rhys had to admit that Cass had a point. Perhaps he had been a tad short sighted in his desire for an excuse to see Feyre more. Well, it’s not like she was planning on working for the company forever. She wanted to open her own art gallery someday. Maybe he could help out with that. Wow. He was getting way ahead of himself.

Amren interrupted his brooding by vocalizing his thoughts, “She doesn’t have to work for Velaris for the rest of her life. Just long enough for her to fall for Rhys. And get rid of the extra baggage.”

“That’s one way of describing him!” Az smirked.

Mor said with deliberate care, “What is your plan, Rhys? About Tamlin that is. We are going to have to tell her eventually.”

He rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “I know.” He ran a hand over his face and continued, “I’ve thought about it. A lot. Honestly, I have no idea how to tell her.”

Rhys may live to regret this, but he looked at Cass and asked, “Any suggestions, brother?”

A fiendish grin lit up Cassian’s face. He glanced at Az and said wickedly, “You could always take her to dinner beforehand. And make sure you call her delicious!”

The room erupted into loud and boisterous laughter. Rhys just groaned, “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

This time it was Az who answered with a resounding “No.”

“Seriously though Rhys, you need to tell her the truth. The whole truth. It’ll be a lot better coming from you or Mor than if she hears some version of the truth from Tamlin.”

True. He shuddered to think about what lies he would tell Feyre. He looked to Mor and saw a look that probably mirrored his own- trepidation with a tad bit of resolve.

“I think we can all agree that Mor and I need to talk to her about Tamlin. But how? Can you imagine that conversation?” He rolled his eyes and continued somewhat bitterly, “How was school today Feyre? By the way, your boyfriend is an evil little cockroach.”

“Well, maybe not quite that dramatic. But essentially, yes.” Amren contributed. With a shrug of her shoulders, she continued, “It doesn’t need to be complicated. You and Mor take her to dinner and tell her everything.”

“I agree. Now, on to more important matters. How are we going to break up Feyre and Tamlin?” Cassian asked conspiratorially.”

“You’re an idiot.” Rhys bit out.

“Besides, it’s not that simple,” Mor said, biting her bottom lip.

“What do you mean, girl?” Amren asked for him.

His cousin glanced at him nervously before saying, “Well, she lives with him. So, it’s not going to be as easy as him just pissing her off.”

“Ok, so it’s going to take something big to get her to break up with him. And then Rhys can come in and sweep her off her feet.” Az said.

“Alright you guys. That’s enough. We are not going to do anything to break them up. Got it?” Rhys’s declaration was met by incredulous looks.

“Why the hell not? The guy is a total asshole.” Cassian asked.

“Asshole or not, Feyre loves him. It’s not up to us to decide who she should be with. It’s her choice. It should always be her choice.” he said passionately.

“If I didn’t know better, brother, I’d say you were in love.” Az said with a sidelong look in his direction and a smile on his lips.

Rhys couldn’t find it on himself to disagree.

*******

After cooking and putting up with his family’s antics all day, Rhys was exhausted. He threw on an old tshirt and a pair of ragged sweatpants and fell into bed. The rest of the dishes could wait until tomorrow. His thoughts inevitably drifted towards Feyre. He hadn’t heard from her at all today. Without even intending to, he texted her. Talking to her was as easy as breathing, and just as necessary. She had become essential to him, to his life, and she didn't even know it yet.

Prince Prick: How was your day? Did you survive?

Feyre Darling: It was rather interesting.

Feyre Darling: But no casualties that I know of

The Queen: You mean Nesta didn’t kill Elain’s boy?

The Queen: *gasps in shock

Feyre Darling: Graysen seemed… ok. At least it seemed to make Elain happy.

Prince Prick: I’m sensing a but coming…

Feyre Darling: I’m probably overreacting, but something was just… off.

Feyre Darling: Like I said, it’s probably nothing

The Queen: Trust your instincts girl. If something seems off, then there’s probably a reason

The Queen: At least you didn’t have to kill him. Or Nesta

Prince Prick: We’d hate to have to spend a perfectly good weekend finding a lawyer for you ;)

Feyre Darling: I already have a lawyer picked out for those pesky family murder situations, I’ll have you know.

The Queen: lol We missed you today, Fey! Next holiday you spend with us!

Prince Prick: Agreed. And no, you don’t get any say in the matter!

Feyre Darling: I think I can agree to those terms. Pricks

Feyre Darling: Before I end up in a food coma and forget- I have free time Monday afternoon. Can I come to Velaris and fill out the paperwork then?

Prince Prick: Of course, Darling! Looking forward to it!

Rhys let out a contented sigh. Feyre would be working with them and he would be able to see her more often. Mor and he had decided that they would take Feyre to dinner after she had settled into her new position and broach the subject of Tamlin with her. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please feel free to leave comments and feedback!! 
> 
> I’m not sure when I’ll be updating next, so I just wanted to say have a wonderful Christmas and happy New Year!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	10. The Shit Hits the Fan

Rhys peered at his watch and frowned.  5:15 pm.  Feyre had mentioned earlier that she was available today and would be stopping by the office to fill out some paperwork.  He glanced at the corner of his office at the stack of papers neatly labeled _Feyre Archeron_.  Normally Cerridwen, the head of the HR department, took care of all the new hire paperwork.  However, this wasn’t just any new employee. This was Feyre.  Who hadn’t come by the office yet.  Or answered any of his texts.  He glanced down at his phone for what must have been the hundredth time.

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Hey Darling! Just wondering what time you were stopping by today. Maybe we could have lunch. Let me know!_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Any idea what time you’ll be coming?_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _It’s almost 4.  Still think you’ll be coming by today?_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Everything ok?_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _??????_

Still no response.  What the heck? This wasn’t like her.  Sure, she didn’t respond right away if she was in class or at work, but she would always text back eventually. This total lack of communication on her part had him unsettled.  By the end of the evening, he was concerned.  Two days later, he was nearly out of his mind with panic.  

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Mor, have you heard from Feyre at all? She was supposed to come by Monday to sign paperwork and never showed up. She’s not responding to any of my texts at all. I’m freaking out here!_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _I haven’t heard from her since the weekend either. It's not like her…_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _I’m worried about her!_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _What should we do?_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Let me handle this. I’m going to text her in the group._

Rhys ran his hands through his hair and tried to calm his wildly beating heart.  There were a number of reasons why she wasn’t answering her texts.  Not many of them were good.  He tried not to dwell on all of the worst case scenarios that were running wildly through his mind.  

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Fey, are you ok? Text me back ASAP_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Feyre, what the hell? Why aren’t you answering your texts??_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _By the Cauldron Feyre! If you don’t respond to this text in the next 5 minutes, I’m calling the police and reporting you missing!_

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** _What do you want Mor?_

Rhys instantly felt some of the fear ebb away when she finally responded. The edge to her words, though, still had him feeling wary.  

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Well, first of all, I want to know why the hell you’ve been ignoring our texts.  Then I want to know why you haven’t gone to Velaris to fill out your paperwork._

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** _And you think that’s any of your business because….?_

Rhys didn’t know what it was, but it was obvious that something had happened to upset Feyre to this extent.

 **_The Queen:_ ** _What the hell, Fey? What is going on with you?_

He felt like his entire life was hanging in the balance as he waited for her response.

 **_Feyre Darling:_ ** _The 3 of us need to talk. Tomorrow. Rita’s at 5._

 **_The Queen:_ ** _I’ll be there._

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _We’ll both be there_

This has disaster written all over it. Fuck. Rhys had learned throughout the years that when a woman says ‘we need to talk,’ nothing good ever comes out of it.  He would understand if Feyre had changed her mind about working for him and decided avoidance was the best solution.  But she had no reason to be upset with Mor.  What the hell had happened?        

*******

The next day dragged by at a snail's pace.  Rhys wasn’t able to concentrate on his work at all.  His thoughts constantly circled around Feyre and the conversation he was about to have with her and Mor.  Not being able to sit around his office any longer, he left and headed for the bar.  He arrived at Rita’s half an hour early and claimed a booth in a quiet, secluded section of the bar.  He didn’t have to wait long before Mor joined him, carrying two bottles of beer. She handed one of the bottles to Rhys and then plopped down on the bench beside him.  “Any clue what this is about?” she said by way of greeting.  

He signed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I have an idea.”

“Tamlin,” she spat out.

“Yup.”

“Fuck.”

“Yup,” he agreed again.          

They sat in silence, nursing their drinks, as they waited.  At exactly 5, Feyre walked through the door.  She glanced around and, after spotting them, marched up to the table. She took a seat on the opposite side of the table and stared them both down with a hard glint in her eyes.  Rhys had never seen her look so unfeeling. So… cold.  He cleared his throat, unsure of how to begin.  

Mor, apparently, had no such issues and jumped right in with, “So, we’re here.  Care to fill us in on what the hell is going on?”

Feyre’s eyes moved away from Mor’s and locked onto Rhys’s.  She squared her shoulders and said determinedly, “Did you offer me the job just to piss off Tamlin?”

What. The. Fuck.

“No. Why the hell would you even think that?”  Feyre didn’t seem satisfied with his response.  She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow expectantly.  He stammered, “Velaris was struggling to make cover art that made a few particularly picky authors happy.  I offered you the job because you are an amazing artist and I thought you could help the company.  Tamlin had nothing to do with it at all.  Nothing.”

“But you know him?” she demanded.

Lucky. They were so incredibly lucky.  It seemed as though Tamlin hadn’t told her much. At least he hadn’t told her a bunch of lies.  Asshole.  He answered, “Yes. I’ve known him since we were boys.  We used to be friends.”  

Feyre turned her gaze to Mor and asked furiously, “Then why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Not allowing Mor enough time to respond, she continued, “Cauldron, I’m such an idiot. I should have known something was up.  All those times I tried to get you to meet him but you just refused.  I mean, typically people want to get to know the person their supposed best friend is dating.”  Feyre’s face was flushed in anger, her mouth a small, grim line.   

Mor’s face had gone extremely pale and she looked on the verge of tears. She rested her hands on the tabletop and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Fey.  I should have told you sooner.  You are my best friend.  Please don’t ever doubt that.”  She took a deep breath to steady herself and then continued, “I didn’t know that you were dating Tamlin until a few months after we had already gotten to know each other and became friends.  When I found out you were with him, I panicked.  I didn’t know how to tell you any of it.  It’s a long, complicated story.”       

“Then uncomplicate it. Now. You owe me that much.”  Underneath all of the anger and iciness, Rhys could see the hurt in her eyes.  The feelings of betrayal.    

“What exactly has Tamlin told you?” he asked delicately.

Feyre huffed in exasperation, “The same as you two idiots. Nothing.”

“How did you find out then? About us knowing Tamlin that is?” Mor asked tentatively.

Feyre gave her a piercing glare and then sighed heavily.  After heartbeat, she admitted, “I was excited and told Tamlin about the job offer.”  She leaned back into the seat, seemingly making herself appear smaller.  “I was expecting him to be happy for me, or be supportive at the very least.” She closed her eyes as if recalling something painful.  “Instead, he became… angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seem him like that before.”

Rhys felt his blood turn ice cold. “What happened?” he demanded.

Feyre deigned to look at him and snapped, “After Tamlin bit my head off, he forbade me from working at Velaris.”    

Rhys balled his hands into fists as white hot anger surged through him.  Of course he had forbidden her from working for Velaris.  Tamlin, who saw people as either pawns or possessions, would always seek to control her.    

Mor asked incredulously, “He forbade you?”

“Don’t, Mor.  Just don’t.” She silenced Mor with a vicious glare.  “Tamlin said that he didn’t want me to have anything to do with either of you ever again.  He said, and I quote, ‘Rhysand Nos is an arrogant, condescending whore who’s only interested in fucking you.’  He wouldn’t tell me anything else about your history with him.”  

Rhys felt his rage rising to the surface.  At the same time though, he felt as if he had been kicked soundly in the balls.  “Do you intend to follow his orders?” he drawled, careful to keep the full extent of his anger contained. The thought of never talking to her again, never seeing her again…

She sneered, “Do I look like the type who tolerates taking orders from anyone?”  

Whatever tenuous hold Mor had on her emotions broke as she flung herself onto Feyre, sobbing, “Oh, thank the Cauldron!  We’re still friends, then?”  

Feyre hugged her back, saying, “You’re both idiots. But, you’re my idiots.  Of course we’re still friends.”  

Rhys’s unease alleviated a fraction of a percent. He watched Mor release Feyre and wipe the tears from her eyes.  He gave Feyre a half smile and batted his lashes, “So you forgive us, then?”

Feyre glanced between him and Mor and snorted, “I wouldn’t go straight to forgiven.  I’m still pissed as hell at the both of you.”

Rhys smirked and inquired, “How did you leave things with Tamlin? I doubt he’s very happy you’re meeting us right now.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and spat, “Prick.” She heaved a sigh and continued, “We came to an agreement, of sorts.  I can work for Velaris... as long as I do so from home.  While he doesn’t like it, he does agree that it is a good opportunity for me.  And about us being friends- I told Tamlin in no uncertain terms that he had no say in the matter.  I don’t control who his friends are and so he had damn well better give me the same consideration.”     

Rhys had to admit, listening to her describe how she stood up to Tamlin was pretty damn hot!  He simpered, “Well, that’s a relief.  Cauldron knows how much you would miss me.”  

“Oh, shut up, Rhys!” she said with the tiniest hint of a smile.  As their regular, teasing relationship returned somewhat back to normal, Rhys knew he would do anything he could to keep her from looking at him with hurt and betrayal in her eyes ever again.  

He knew it was coming, but he still flinched when she said, “Tell me everything. Please. I need to know.”     

Mor looked at him and gave an encouraging smile.  He steeled his nerves and began, “My mom, Rhoswen, was an amazing woman- kind, loving, generous.  Everyone loved her.  I mean, you heard the way Cass and Az talked about her.”

“She was more of a mother to me than my own was,” Mor interjected.  

Rhys nodded his head in agreement, continuing, “My father, Gwydion, was the complete opposite.  He was cold and vicious, even to his family.  While growing up, things at home were always better when he wasn’t around.  Which, due to his job, was quite often.  I never really understood why my mother stayed with him.” He shrugged his shoulders saying, “I think she was grateful for everything he did for her when they were younger.  She came from an extremely poor family and he helped put her through school.  Gave her a way out of a bad situation.”  

He had always thought his mother had deserved better, though.  Better than the arrogant, mean ass his father was.  He shook his head, trying to get this thoughts back on track.  “Anyways, my father and Tamlin’s father, Oddvar, started off as business partners.  They actually got along pretty well at first.  Tamlin’s mother, Anja, and my mother met at some business party and became friends.  Since Tamlin and I were around the same age, our mothers arranged playdates for the two of us.”

Rhys smiled sadly as he reminisced.  “I remember that first time we met.  We were about five or six at the time.  Our mothers sat of the couch drinking wine and gossiping, completely ignoring us boys.  Tamlin and I didn’t know what to think of each other at first.  We kind of sat around for awhile ignoring each other.  That is, until I brought out my ninja turtles and asked him if he wanted to play.”

Mor scoffed, “You realize how dorky you were as a child, right?”

“Oh please. Cass was the dorky one.  Anyways, after that we were inseparable.  He was my best friend for years.”  

Rhys took a deep swig of his drink, needing a moment to collect himself.  Feyre’s face was unreadable.  He wasn’t sure how she would react to the next part of his family's history.  Not seeing an alternative, he continued. “I was about 11 when things changed.  My father and Oddvar had a disagreement about the direction in which to take the company.  It turned ugly.  My father ended up leaving and starting up his own.  Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there.  Gwydion and Oddvar did whatever they could to sabotage the other’s companies.  They were cutthroat and vicious.  Soon, our mothers weren’t speaking either and I wasn’t allowed anywhere near Tamlin.  I didn’t see him for years until we ended up at the same high school.  I was thrilled to see him that first day.  Az and Cass were in the same year as Tamlin and I.”  With an involuntary roll of his eyes, he continued, “I thought it was going to be an amazing.  I could just imagine all the trouble the four of us could cause.  Things didn’t work out quite like that.”   

“What happened?” Feyre asked with narrowed brows.   

He ran a hand through his hair again. Cauldron, he was going to go bald soon from doing that.  Rhys straightened his shoulders and confessed, “His father was even worse than mine, if that’s possible.  I think that Tamlin wanted to impress him.  Hell, I don’t know. Maybe he just believed everything he had heard about my family at that point.  Anyways, Tamlin made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with me, Cass, or Az.  He took it upon himself to continue the family feud our beloved fathers had started.”    

Rhys, realizing his beer was empty, flagged down the waiter and ordered another round.  As the waiter left, Rhys continued, “Tamlin made it his personal mission in life to one up us.  He tried to make us look bad in everything from grades, to sports, to even girls.” Rhys felt a little sheepish mentioning that last one, but he wanted to be honest with her, seeing that Tamlin wasn’t. “It turned into an ugly, stupid competition. Us versus him.”

“Yeah. A stupid pissing contest that led to a number of fist fights, if I remember correctly.” Mor added with a roll of her eyes.

Feyre’s brows lifted in surprise. She asked, “You? The nerdy pretty boy got into fights with Tamlin?”

Rhys tried not to blush at her words, but he felt his ears turn hot as he purred, “So you think I’m pretty, hmmmm?”

Feyre scoffed, “Don’t try to change the subject with your indecent flirting, you prick.”

He couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t the only one turning a little pink in the ears, though.  Rhys was surprised to find himself laughing, considering the topic they were about to broach.  His thoughts were interrupted by the waiter returning with their drinks.  He gratefully accepted the drink and downed half its contents.  Mor placed a reassuring hand on his.  Thank the Cauldron she was here.  

He removed his hands from the table and gripped the edge of his seat.  He took a unsteady breath and began telling the final part of his family history.  “Near the end of my junior year, there was an awards ceremony for all of the businesses in Prythian.  Both my family and Tamlin’s family were invited.”  He was holding onto the seat so hard that his fingers were turning white.  “The police reports said that Oddvar had been drinking heavily before getting behind the wheel of the car.” He heard Feyre gasp but he ignored it.  If he didn’t finish soon, he wouldn’t be able to.  “He swerved and hit the car next to him, sending both cars in a ravine.  Tamlin’s mother, father, and brothers were killed instantly.” His voice caught a bit as he said, “My mother, father, and little sister Prydwen were in the other car. All three were killed as well.”

Feyre covered her mouth with her hands.  She shook her head back and forth, as if trying to deny what he had said.  Her voice broke as she said quietly, “I’m so sorry, Rhys.”

Mor stood up silently and sat on the bench next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.  Rhys was more grateful for his cousin being there then he cared to admit.

“Tamlin and I were playing in a soccer game at the time.  It’s the reason we weren't there with them at the time.  They all had left the party early to go watch us play,” Rhys admitted with an edge to his voice.     

“But I don’t understand. If Tamlin’s father had caused the accident, why does he hate you so much?” Feyre asked hesitantly.

“He blames my father for the accident.  Gwydion ended up being awarded some fancy trophy over his Oddvar. According to Tamlin, his father wouldn’t have been drinking at all that night if it wasn’t for my father,” Rhys said bitterly.

“Tamlin actually said that?” Feyre gasped in shock.

“Yup.  Right before he punched me.”

“What the fuck,” Feyre said slowly.  Her face was deathly pale and she looked about a heartbeat away from fainting.  

“It was in the hospital after we had found out about the accident.  If Cass and Az hadn't been there to pull us apart, it would have been a lot worse.  We haven’t really spoken since.  Unless you consider snarling at each other from across a room speaking, that is.”       

They were all quiet for a minute, each lost in their own thoughts.  Mor broke the silence with, “So now you know our history with Tamlin.  And why we didn’t tell you sooner.”

Feyre gave her a considering look before retorting, “Don’t keep anything else from me, hooker.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, bitch!” Mor said with a smirk.  

As painful as it had been, Rhys found himself extremely glad that he had told his story.  Feyre had been right, she did deserve to know.  And maybe, just maybe, it would help put a wedge between her and _him_.  Like the selfish prick he was, he found the idea of them breaking up to be extremely pleasant.                

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll! Hope you had an amazing holiday! 
> 
> So here's the next chapter!! Let me know what you think! Comments and constructive criticisms are always welcome. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> FairyPrincessKjar
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	11. Sparkly Things

Rhys was bored.  Very bored.  He was currently sprawled out on his couch in an old Prythian University t-shirt and black sweatpants.  He had been absentmindedly flipping through Netflix for the past hour and had settled on watching Stranger Things, though he had already watched each and every episode with Mor.  Admittedly, he had been restless for weeks.  If he were being honest with himself, he had been ever since that evening he had met Mor and Feyre at Rita’s.  She had been to Velaris twice since then - both times he had been in meetings and hadn’t been notified until after she had already left.  They had texted a few times, but Feyre seemed somewhat… aloof.  He didn’t know what to make out of it.  He wanted to attribute it to her busy schedule.  She had just finished her finals, after all.  He couldn’t help the nagging suspicion that there was more to it than that.  He didn’t think she was still angry with them, but she definitely had been keeping her distance lately.  Rhys leaned his head back on the armrest and stared at the ceiling.   He picked up his phone and contemplated texting her.  Cauldron, he missed her.  Instead of finding Feyre’s number in his contacts, he brought up the family group text.

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _We still doing Christmas at my place next week?_

 **_Amren:_ ** _Duh_

 **_Az:_ ** _If you don’t mind._

 **_Az:_ ** _You know Cass has an aversion to cleaning. Otherwise I would say we could have it here at our place._

 **_Pain in the Cass:_ ** _Asshole!_

 **_Az:_ ** _Do you deny it? Have you even seen your bedroom lately?_

 **_Pain in the Cass:_ ** _You suck!_

 **_Amren:_ ** _You’re both idiots_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Rhys- I’m coming over early on Christmas to decorate. That ok?_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _And I’m bringing the dessert!!!  :)_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Like I could interfere with your love of sparkly things._

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Or sugar!_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _;) You know me so well!_

 **_Pain in the Cass:_ ** _Will Feyre Darling be joining us????_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Probably not. I think she’s spending the holiday with her sisters._

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Yup.  She is._

 **_Amren:_ ** _I’m surprised that Tamlin is ok with that. Jackass._

 **_Pain in the Cass:_ ** _No shit. He probably hates Feyre’s sisters for not letting him come._

 **_The Queen:_ ** _Well, she’s spending her birthday with him so that’s probably why his panties aren’t all in a twist about it._

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Wait… what????? When’s her birthday?_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _In a few days- December 21_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _She HATES celebrating her birthday, so don’t get any bright ideas!_

Not wanting to celebrate her birthday sounded just like Feyre, he thought.  She didn’t like being the center of attention like Mor and Cassian did.  And she was the type of person that didn’t like others making a big fuss over her.  She was like Az in that sense, though for different reasons.  At least he hoped it was for different reasons.  Az didn’t think that he deserved attention or to be given anything good from others.  He refused to accept otherwise when they told him as much. Though it pained him to admit it, Mor was right. Feyre wouldn’t want a big deal to be made of her birthday.  However much he wanted to shower her with gifts and attention, he knew he would have to let it go.  Next year he promised himself.  If, by some miracle, he and Feyre were together next year at this time, he would give her the birthday she deserved.  Pulling himself out of his fantasy before getting too carried away, he brought his attention back to the conversation with his family.     

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Why does she hate her birthday?_

 **_The Queen:_ ** _No idea.  When I asked her about it, she didn’t really say much.  Avoided the question._

 **_The Queen:_ ** _You know how she can be._

 **_Pain in the Cass:_ ** _We’ll have to plan another family dinner soon and invite Feyre Darling._

 **_Az:_ ** _She’s part of the family now anyways._

Rhys felt a rush of gratitude for his family.  Without hesitation, they had readily accepted Feyre into their strange, little group. For him.  They didn’t ask any questions. Hadn’t hesitated.  They welcomed her with open arms for his sake.  Hell, Cass was dead set on splitting up Feyre and Tamlin so that Rhys could be with her.  A smile spread across his face- the first time he had done so in days.  They were an eclectic group, for sure.  Not everyone understood, or appreciated, the teasing that went along with being a member of the group.  Somehow, against all odds, they all just fit together.  Rhys couldn’t have asked for a better family.     

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Love you guys!_

 **_Pain in the Cass:_ ** _Ugh. Being in love has turned you into into such a sentimental sap!  LOL_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _Ass_

 **_Prince Prick:_ ** _See you all in a few days._

Sighing, he threw the phone as though it were a frisbee and watched it land on the coffee table.  It didn’t make sense, seeing that he had only known her for a few short months, but he felt Feyre’s recent absence acutely.  It was like, somehow, she had become a part of him. Ever since she had detached herself from his life, it had felt like a part of him was missing.  And it hurt like hell.       

*******

“Rhys! I need your help,” Mor hollered at him from the living room.  She was standing on a chair, precariously perched on her toes, while attempting to hang mistletoe from the ceiling.  As promised, she had shown up bright and early on Christmas morning to decorate.  He loved his little cousin, but his apartment now looked as though Christmas had gotten sick and thrown up all over everything.  Garlands were strung along every entryway.  Stockings were now hung from the wall, as he didn’t have a fireplace.  Tables were bedecked in wreaths and tinsel. Not one surface of his home had been spared.  Thank the Cauldron he already had a tree or Mor would have dragged one along with her too.

Chucking slightly, Rhys abandoned his post in the kitchen where he had been meticulously tending to the turkey. “Tell me again why we need mistletoe hanging from every inch of the ceiling,” he taunted as he took her place on the chair and hung what must have been the hundredth bunch of mistletoe from the ceiling.            

“Oh hush. Everyone should be here soon and I want to finish the decorations before they do,” she said as she waved a hand dismissively.    

“Ummm, Mor?”  He glanced around the room and teased, “What else could there possibly be for you to decorate?”

She giggled as she looked around.  “You may have a point there.  I guess that’s enough decorations,” she said as she tucked the last remaining box of decorations into the coat closet.

“That’s enough, you guess?  You do realize this is not the North Pole, right?”

Mor rolled her eyes at him.  “It looks amazing. You’re just jealous of my superior decorating skills.”  She snorted, “Some of us like to have a color other than black in their home.  And wardrobe for that matter.”

Rhys tipped his head back and laughed.  She definitely had him on that one.  He snuck a glance at what he was currently wearing.  Yup.  Black button down shirt and black dress pants.  Well, at least he looked good in the color!    

“Merry Christmas assholes!” Cassian shouted as he threw open the door and strolled inside, being careful not to drop the armful of gifts he was carrying.  Walking through the door behind him were Az and Amren, each laden with food for the holiday feast.  His living room suddenly became full of loud, boisterous voices all shouting ‘Merry Christmas’ as his family greeted each other.  After Cass had set the gifts under the tree and Az and Amren had placed the food in the kitchen, Mor insisted on giving everyone a hug- including Amren.  To Rhys’s amazement, the tiny, and slightly scary female, hugged her back.  That in itself was a Christmas miracle.           

Rhys retreated to the kitchen to check on the turkey.  One of the little known facts about himself was that he enjoyed cooking, and was damn good at it too!  He hoped he got the chance to cook for Feyre sometime soon.  He ran a hand through his hair as he internally chastised himself.  He couldn’t dwell on his feels for her today.        

“Hey, when’s dinner? I’m starving!” Cassian whined from his seat on the couch.  

Az promptly elbowed him in the side and groaned, “You are such a child, Cassian! Why do we even put up with you?”

Cass gave his his infamous, panty- dropping smile and purred, “Because, Az, I make things around here more interesting. And I’m damned handsome, too.”

Az snorted, “And single, if my memory serves me correctly.”  

“The day Cassian has a girlfriend is the day quit and hand my job over to Mor,” Amren cackled.  Cassian gave her a murderous look.  Amren raised a brow in a silent challenge.    

Before the two of them could begin a brawl in the middle of the living room, Rhys said, “Food should be ready in about an hour.” The delighted expression on Cass’s face caused him to burst into laughter as he claimed the vacant recliner across from Amren.  Mor reappeared with a bottle of wine and a glasses for everyone.  

As she dispensed the wine, aptly named Frosty Frolic, she thought aloud, “Hmmm… that’s an awfully good incentive, Amren.  I set Cassian up with someone and then take your job. I like it.  I wonder who’s available?  Who would be able to put up with all of his crap?”  A mischievous look appeared on her face before she began laughing gleefully.  All three of the men in the room looked questioningly at her.  

Amren just looked annoyed as she asked, “What is so funny, girl?

Mor flashed Rhys a conspiratorial smile before she disclosed, “I’m going to set Cassian up with Feyre’s sister, Nesta.”

Rhys unceremoniously spit his wine out all over the floor.  Whatever he had been expecting, that was not it.  He choked out, “Are you insane? Nesta? What the hell are you thinking, Mor?”

Mor grinned fiendishly at Cassian and said, “She’s smart, attractive, and best off all, she won’t take any of your shit.”

Cassian’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two cousins. He took in Mor’s impish grin and  the look of pure shock on Rhys’s face.  He asked carefully, “What don’t I know?”

Rhys honestly didn’t know how to answer Cass’s question.  He stuttered, “Well, ummm…”  He looked to Mor beseechingly.  

“She can be a bit of a handful,” she said tactfully.  That was putting it mildly.    

Cassian snorted, “And why, pray tell, would I be interested in dating her then?”  

Mor, he decided, had lost her mind.  From what little information he had on her, Nesta was the polar opposite of Cassian.  He was fire- passionate about everything and loved his family deeply.  She was ice- cold and distant from those around her.  Why in the bottomless depths of the Cauldron did Mor think that they would be a good match?      

“Cass, you need someone who isn’t afraid to challenge you.  Someone who will keep you on your toes.  Most of the time, your relationships end because you get bored.  And Nesta Archeron is far from boring.”

That was most definitely an understatement.  Cass gave her a disgruntled look and hissed, “Do not even try to set me up with this she-devil, Morrigan!”

She chose not to respond.  Instead, she just gave him a saccharine smile.

“Someone, please talk some sense into her!” Cass begged as he threw his hands in the air.

Amren shrugged her shoulders and said, “I wouldn’t mind seeing this, actually.  I like the sound of this Nesta girl.”  This caused a round of laughter from everyone in the room, with the exception of Cassian.

“Maybe you should ask Feyre before you try to set her sister up with this idiot,” Rhys chuckled.

Mor shrugged her shoulders and said, “I think she’ll approve.  Besides, she’s the one who said that maybe Nesta would stop being such a bitch if she got laid.” For the second time that day, Rhys spit his drink out all over the floor.  

He barked out a laugh as Cassian crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “I hate all of you.”  

Az elbowed him in the side again and said merrily, “We love you too, Cass.”

Several hours later, Rhys found himself in the kitchen cleaning up the remaining dishes.  He glanced at his family who were lounging around in the living room.  Cass and Az were playing the new Xbox game Rhys had gotten.  He smiled fondly at his two brothers as they argued over Cass’s apparent cheating.  Mor and Amren were playing a card game together.  Mor, he noted, had made an impressive dent in the chocolates she had gotten.  Today had turned out to be one of the best holidays that they had in a long time.  His family had temporarily made the ache in his chest subside, though not disappear altogether.  Rhys wondered, not for the first time that day, what Feyre was up to.  Had she spent the day with her sisters after all?  He hoped that her day had been as wonderful as his.  The only thing that could have made his holiday any better is if Feyre suddenly appeared at the door.  He unintentionally looked at the door, hoping to see her walk through.  He shook his head and laughed at himself, feeling a little foolish.  Soon.  He told himself.  He would see her soon.          

*******

As it turned out, Rhys didn’t have a chance to see Feyre until after the new year was already underway.  He was on his way to a meeting with Cerridwen and literally almost ran into her as she was leaving Nuala’s office.  

“Feyre,” he said her name as though he were trying to convince himself she was really standing before him and not simply a figment of his imagination.  

Before he could even think about what he was doing, he pulled her into a hug.  She stiffened in his arms and he released her immediately.  He stepped back and looked at Feyre.  Really looked at her.  The second thing he noticed about her appearance was how very weary she looked.  Her usually bright eyes seemed dull and lifeless.  There were enormous dark circles underneath both eyes that hadn’t been there the last time he had seen her.  The first thing he had immediately noticed, however, was the very large, very ostentatious diamond ring that now sat on a certain finger of her left hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So, I hope you liked the new chapter! Let me know what you think! Comments and feedback are welcome! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	12. Rings and Things

Rhys walked back to his office in a daze, barely registering what was happening around him.  He vaguely heard someone calling his name, but his feet continued moving forward of their own volition.  His thoughts churned malevolently in his head- the most prevalent being his concern for Feyre’s wellbeing.  What the hell was going on with her?  Not only had she acted strangely, she had also looked as though she hadn’t had a decent night sleep in about a month.  And then there was the fact that she had been distancing herself from both him and Mor recently.  So, needless to say, he was extremely worried about her.  He replayed the short conversation they had in his mind once again.

_“Hey stranger.  I haven't seen you in awhile.  How’ve you been?” he asked, only able to muster a small, half hearted smirk._

_She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and smiled tightly at him.  “I’ve been good. You?” she asked politely.  Why was she acting as though they were complete strangers?  They were supposed to be friends, for cauldrons sake._

_“Good, but better now that you’re here,” Rhys purred.  He was pleased to see the corners of her mouth twitch up slightly at that. He continued, “So, Feyre Darling, what brings you here today?”_

_“I was dropping off some covers for Nuala’s approval.  And picking up another assignment.”_

_“So things are going well with the job then, I take it?” he asked, though he had already heard from Nuala that even their pickiest authors had been pleased with her cover art.  He had known she would do amazingly well in the position.  He had also hoped that she had been enjoying the work she was doing for the company._

_A real, genuine smile appeared on her face as she said, “Yes. It’s amazing. Thank you again.”_

_He waved a hand dismissively. “No need to thank me.  I don’t think I’ve seen Nuala this happy in years.  It’s a win-win situation,” he said as he returned her smile._

_She glanced down at the phone nestled in her hand and sighed, “Crap, I have to get going. I need to stop by the University bookstore and pick up my textbooks before they close.”_

_With a heavy heart, he said, “Well, see you later Darling.  Let me know how your classes go next week.”_

_She gave him a small smile and waved before she turned and walked down the hall.  Rhys stood rooted on the spot, completely unable to move as he watched Feyre walk away.  It wasn’t until she had turned the corner and disappeared from sight that he himself was able to walk away._

Rhys began to pace around his office.  One of the things that confused him the most about the whole situation was the fact that she hadn’t mentioned the ring at all.  Weren’t newly engaged people supposed to be deliriously happy about it?  Furthermore, wasn’t it like a girl law to show off a diamond ring at every opportunity and wave it around in people’s faces?  If he didn’t know any better, he would think that Feyre wasn’t excited about being engaged.  That, or she just didn’t want to mention it to him because of his volatile relationship with her fiancé.  He grimaced.  That word, he decided, was vile and should be banned from the English language.

A pounding at the door brought him out of his contemplation.  Before he had a chance to turn the offending person away, Cass and Az came barging into the room.            

“Rhys, what’s wrong?” Az asked before he was fully through the door, concern evident on his face.  

“You stormed right past us like a bat outta hell.  What’s going on?” Cass demanded, not breaking eye contact with Rhys as he closed the door behind him.  

Rhys opened his mouth to tell his brothers what had happened, but nothing came out.  He stood their gaping like a fish out of water until Az came over and laid a scarred hand on his shoulder. 

“Rhys, talk to us.  Tell us what’s going on.  Let us help.”

He said in a hollow, desolate voice, “She’s engaged.”  Az’s grip on his shoulder increased.  Though he remained silent, Rhys appreciated the support his brother was offering.    

“How did you find out?” Cass asked as he sat on the edge of the desk, arms crossed over his chest.

Rhys slipped out of his brother’s grasp and took a seat in one of the twin plush chairs situated in front of his desk, resting his elbows on his knees.  “She was here.  I ran into her as she was leaving Nuala’s office.  She didn’t tell me, but she didn’t have to.  She was wearing an engagement ring.”  

Cass swore viciously.  They sat in silence for a moment before Cass looked at him and said with a determined glint in his eye, “No fucking way we’re going to let that happen.  What are we going to do?  What’s the plan?”

The problem was that Rhys didn’t have any idea about what he should do.  The only thing he did know for certain was that he wasn’t going to let Feyre push them out of her life anymore.  He was not about to let his friend go it alone.  And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her suffer.   

So, he and his brothers sat in his office for the next hour and came up with plan after plan, each more ridiculous than the previous.  Evidently, Cass thought that any plan that didn’t end in Tamlin being castrated was shit.  Even though they hadn’t been able to come up with anything that would actually have a chance in hell of working, they had at least succeeded in making Rhys laugh.

*******

Nearly three weeks had passed since Rhys had seen Feyre and learned of her engagement.  She had texted sporadically since then, claiming to be busy since the onset of her final semester at the University of Prythian.  He adjusted his tie in irritation and sighed, wishing he could just take the blasted, constricting thing off.  He had to wait until after dinner though.  Amren had warned him that he was expected to say a few words tonight and he needed to be presentable.  It was a celebration for their company, an anniversary of sorts.  Rhys still couldn’t believe that is had been five years since he and his friends had launched their company.  The entire staff of Velaris was invited to attend tonight, though there was one artist in particular that he was keen on seeing.  

Since there wasn’t a single room in the company building large enough to hold the entirety of their staff, they had reserved a banquet room at a nearby hotel.  The whole evening had turned into a far more expensive, grander event than he had originally hoped for.  Once Amren had gotten involved in the planning, all of his ideas for a simple backyard barbecue were vetoed.  He had made the mistake of mentioning hamburgers and beer in her presence once.  Amren had narrowed her eyes and then seen fit to kick him off of the planning team without the slightest bit of hesitation.  He did have to admit, albeit slightly grudgingly, that the place looked amazing.  The Velaris staff did deserve it for all the hard work they did every single day.

Although he had arrived precisely when he was supposed to, Amren stalked up to him and snapped, “You’re late.”

He held back the retort that was on the tip of his tongue, knowing better than to goad the beast.  Choosing instead to say, “The place looks great.”

“I know.”  

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he asked, “Where’s Cass and Az?”

“Late. As usual.  Where’s Mor?” His cousin frequently attended events such as this as his plus one, and tonight wasn't an exception.  Besides, she had unofficially worked at Velaris since its inception and deserved to there tonight as much as anyone else did.

“She should be here soon. Her and Feyre are coming together.”

Amren eyebrows shot up but, thankfully, chose not to say anything.  

“Everything ready to go for tonight?”

“I’m in charge of the evening, remember?”    

“Most certainly. A fact I’ll be regretting when the bill comes in the mail, I’m sure,” he drawled.  Amren just smirked at him.

“Hey asshole! Where’s the beer?” Rhys snorted as Cass and Az strolled over.  

“The bar is that way,” Amren said as she pointed to a corner of the room. She smiled sweetly, “I asked the bartenders to charge you twice as much as everyone else tonight.”

Cass gasped in horror, “Amren, that’s just cruel.”  

Az sniffed, “Maybe it’ll keep you from getting piss drunk and making a fool of yourself.  For once.”

“That was one time!” Cass cried in indignation.  

Az looked unfazed and merely said, “Vegas, your birthday last year, New Year’s Eve…  Do I need to continue?”

“Alright. Alright. You made your point, jackass.”  Cass grumbled.

“What don’t I know about New Year’s?” Mor asked accusingly as she and two others walked up to them.

“You’re probably better off not knowing,” Rhys laughed as he gave her a hug.

His attention then went to her- his Feyre.  His eyes swept up and down her body.  Twice.  Cauldron, she was beautiful.  She was wearing a dress the deepest shade of blue.  While it was tasteful and not overly revealing, it still managed to show off her generous curves.  

“You look beautiful tonight, Feyre Darling,” he purred.  He was so caught off guard by someone smacking him upside the head, that he was unable to catch her reaction to his words.  

“What the hell?” he squawked as he rubbed the back of his head, shooting Cass and Az dirty looks.  

“Hey, don’t look at us. That was all Mor,” Cass informed him.  He whipped his head around and glared at her.

“What? You didn’t tell me how good I looked tonight, Cousin.  What was I supposed to do?” Mor said innocently.     

Rhys gaped at Mor dumbfoundedly as everyone around him burst into laughter.  

His gaze wandered over to the woman beside Feyre, who looked remarkably like her.  She had a similar build and nearly identical golden-brown hair.  She could have been Feyre’s twin had it not been for the look of disdain on her face, like something smelly had been shoved under her nose.    

Noticing his gaze, Feyre motioned to the woman and said, “This is my sister, Nesta.”  

He heard Amren snort from behind him as he gave Mor a questioning look.  She just grinned and shrugged her shoulders mischievously.  He glanced in Cass’s direction just in time to see his eyes raking up and down Nesta’s body in obvious appreciation.      

While everyone’s attention was focused on Nesta as Feyre introduced her to everyone, Rhys only had eyes for Feyre.  He stared at her unabashedly, his his roaming over every dip and curve of her body.  She didn’t look as exhausted as she had the last time he had seen her.  Though she was wearing copious amounts of makeup that could be hiding the black smudges that had been under her eyes the last time he had seen her, he was pleased to see that she looked as though she were back to her usual self.  He would pull her away at some point tonight and talk to her about everything- just the two of them.    

As Feyre introduced Nesta to Cassian, Rhys had to wonder if Mor had let her in on the matchmaking plan.  There seemed to be a tiny little sparkle in Feyre’s eyes that hadn’t been there moments before.

“Call me Cass. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” he said in an attempted low, sultry voice as he reached for her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.  

Nesta snatched her hand aways and gave him an unimpressed, dismissive look.  She turned her attention to Feyre and snapped, “Why am I here again?”

Cass’s grin grew to be downright indecent and he said, “Well sweetheart, your sister wanted you to meet her friends, since we’ll probably seeing you quite often from now on.”

Nesta shot him a look of disdain and hissed, “Do not call me sweetheart.”

Instead of dissuading Cass, however, Rhys could practically see the words ‘challenge accepted’ whirling through his brother’s head.    

“Oh, sure thing, Nessie,” he said with a wink.

Rhys was intensely glad that he was not on the receiving end of Nesta’s ire at that moment.  The look she gave Cassian was wrath incarnate.  “Call me that again and you will live to regret it.”

Mor cut in, ever the peacemaker of the group, and said, “Fey told me that one of her sisters is a botanist and one is a veterinarian.  Which one are you?”  Rhys was positive that Mor already knew the answer to that question, but she wouldn’t be able to set up Cass and Nesta if the later decapitated the other.    

A ghost of a smile appeared on Nesta’s face as replied, “Elain is the botanist. She’s incredibly gifted.  She gave me a plant once, thinking I’d have the same green thumb she possesses.  Somehow, I managed to kill the damn thing in less than a week.”  It seemed as though Nesta had a soft spot for the middle sister.  They did live together, though it did make Rhys wonder about the tumultuous relationship Feyre had wither her sisters.     

Feyre started giggling at her sister, “Oh my gosh! I remember that!” She turned and explained to the others with a grin, “Nesta was so upset it died! She thought Elain would get mad so she ended up getting a fake plant and tried to pass it off as the one Elain had given her.”

“Nesta snorted, “Yeah, and it would have worked too if the damn cat hadn’t knocked the thing over.”  

Mor, he realized, was a genius.  Nesta no longer looked as though she would like nothing better than to rip Cassian to shreds.  

“Do you work at a clinic here in Prythian?” Az asked.

“Yes. I work at a clinic near the mall for now,” she answered.  Noticing the inquisitive looks she was receiving, she added, “I would like to open up my own clinic someday. When I have enough money saved, that is.”  It seemed as though Feyre wasn’t the only ambitious one in her family.

People had begun to arrive by this time and were happily taking advantage of the open bar cocktail hour before dinner.  A drink sounded pretty good about now, actually, he thought.    

Mor must have had similar thoughts.  She linked arms with Feyre and said, “Let’s go get some drinks, shall we?”  Feyre nodded her agreement and the two sauntered off.  

Rhys was appreciating the curves Feyre’s backside as she walked across the room when he got that prickly feeling that one gets from being observed.  He turned to find that he was right and, indeed, someone was watching him.  Nesta was unabashedly assessing him, similarly to how a cat would assess a mouse before pouncing.

Nesta raised a perfectly groomed brow and said, “So Rhysand, when are you going to tell my sister that you are in love with her?”

What the actual fuck. He stared into her steely eyes, mouth agape.  Her eyes were so similar to Feyre’s, but held none of the warmth that he had become accustomed to in these last few months. Cass, Az, and even Amren, being the pricks they were, began howling in laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave comments and feedback! I would love to hear what you think! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	13. Pics and Kicks

Once Rhys had recovered enough from the shock of Nesta’s blunt, though rather perceptive question, he stammered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  He cursed inwardly at the heat he felt creeping up along his neck and face, certain that it would give Nesta a legitimate reason to doubt the sincerity of his words.

Nesta inspected her immaculately manicured nails as though bored and drawled, “Oh… so you don’t stare at _Feyre Darling_ when you think she’s not looking or hang on her every word?”  She gave him a piercing look, as though daring him to disagree with her.  

“She’s got you there, bro,” Cass snickered.  Rhys shot him a glare and flipped him off, muttering a string of filthy curse words under his breath.

“Well, it is kind of obvious that you have feelings for her, Rhys,” Az said consolingly.  

“To everyone, that is, except for my sister.” Nesta snorted before continuing, “How she hasn’t seen and called you out on your constant ogling is a mystery to me.”           

Rhys crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, “I do not ogle her.”  Admittedly, he had already checked her out a few times that evening, and...  well… every time he saw her.  But Nesta sure as hell couldn’t know that. Could she?  Fuck.  Had it really been that obvious?  He replayed the evening in his mind, hoping that his appreciation for how beautiful Feyre looked had not been that noticeable.  Discrete, he assured himself.  He had definitely been discrete when he had checked her out.    

Nesta rolled her eyes and sneered, “Cut the shit Rhysand and answer the damn question.  When are you going to tell my sister that you are in love with her?”  Rhys looked at each of his friends in turn, silently beseeching each of them to help him out of this situation.  

“I’d like to know the answer to that question myself,” Amren said with an irreverent shrug of her shoulders.  

Cassian, who had been inconspicuously moving closer and closer to Nesta as the conversation proceeded, chimed in, “You’re on your own here, Rhys.  I highly doubt Nessie is going to let this slide without an actual answer from you.”

Nesta slowly twisted around and faced Cassian.  The smile she gave him was, undoubtedly, the most frightening thing that Rhys had ever seen in his entire life.  She sauntered over to Cass, hips swishing with each step she took as she closed the distance between them.  Cass’s eyes grew wide as Nesta stopped a hair’s breadth away from him, her chest imperceptibly brushing up against his.  Cass gulped audibly as their eyes made contact.  Rhys shared a concerned glance with Az, unsure as to what Nesta had planned.  Whatever it was, he thought, it couldn’t be good.  Amren watched the two with amused interest, much like one would watch a movie.  In fact, the only thing she seemed to be missing was the popcorn.  Cass’s breath hitched as Nesta reached up and ran a hand through his long hair, which happened to be down for once and not in its usual bun.  His eyes glanced down at Nesta’s lips briefly before flicking back up to her eyes.  Nesta’s smile grew even wider as she wrapped her other arm around his neck.  Cass’s eyes darkened with desire as he placed his hands on her hips, pulling her impossibly closer to him.  Never taking her eyes off of his, Nesta tilted her face towards him.  With the slightest of smiles upon his face, Cass closed his eyes and leaned towards her.  Just as their lips were about to meet, Nesta grinned wickedly.  She removed her hands from his hair and the back of his neck and gripped his shoulders.  Rhys watched in both amusement and horror as she proceeded to knee Cass viciously between the legs.  Both Az and Rhys winced at the sight, knowing exactly how painful the blow had been.  Amren, being the ferocious beast that she was, began cackling uncontrollably.     

“Nice try, asshole,” Nesta sneered as she stepped out of his arms.   

“What the fuck?” Cass roared, doubled over in pain as he grasped his manhood gingerly.  

“I warned you not to call me Nessie, you imbecile.”  She gave him a serpentine smile and warned, “Now maybe you’ll think twice before doing it again.”  Cass gaped at her, a mixture of disbelief, pain, anger, and lust upon his face.  Rhys wasn’t surprised in the least that Cass could still be turned on by a woman who had just kneed him in the balls.  For someone, such as Cassian, who had no difficulty attracting members of the opposite sex, a female not throwing herself at him was seen as a welcome challenge.         

Cass stuttered, “I… You… What the…”

Ignoring Cassian and acting as though nothing remotely interesting had just happened, Nesta turned to face Rhys and sniffed, “Well?”

Rhys had an overwhelming desire to shield his own private parts from her, just in case she turned her wrath towards him.  Stifling that impulse, he said, “Feyre and I are just friends.  And she happens to be engaged, in case you hadn't noticed.”     

Nesta snorted, “That idiot doesn’t deserve her.  He’s selfish. Not to mention controlling,  condescending, and arrogant.” She looked Rhys up and down before saying, “At least you treat her with respect. Even if you do gawk at her every chance you get.”  Rhys wasn’t sure how to respond to that.  After all, how much of a compliment could it be, saying that he was a slightly better choice than Tamlin? It’s not as if someone could get any lower than _him_.  

Rhys shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around, wanting to look anywhere but at those steely grey-blue eyes.  Cassian was intentionally keeping his distance from the eldest Archeron sister, though his attention remained fixed on her. He was no longer cradling his balls and his face was uncharacteristically stoney as he stared hard at her.

“Nesta is right.  You should tell her, boy,” Amren stated.  As usual, her tone of voice indicated that she was talking to a child, and a dimwitted one at that.   

Rhys narrowed his eyes at the small, yet strangely fierce and intimidating woman.  “Why? What good would that do?”  He ran a hand through his hair and said rather defensively, “The only thing that would happen if I told her how I feel is that she would get pissed as hell and I would lose her as a friend.”

“Rhys, we’ve all told you this before.  Many times.  She has a right to know how you feel,” Az said beseechingly.  

Nesta stalked up to Rhys, poked his chest with a finger, and snapped, “It would give her a choice in whom she is in a relationship with.  That’s what telling her would do.  She deserves that- a choice.”  

“She made her choice when she put that ring on her finger.” he hissed.  He paused, taking a deep breath in order to get his rising temper under control.  “And unless she chooses to take it off for good, I am not going to tell her anything.”

“Then you’re a damned fool, Rhysand.  And I was very, very wrong about the kind of person I thought you were,” Nesta spat at him, standing so close to him now that they were nearly nose to nose.

He threw his hands up in exasperation and took a few steps back.  There was no way that he could tell Feyre.  Especially not now, seeing as though she had been distancing herself from them lately.  For Cauldron's sake, she hadn’t even spoken to Mor or him about her engagement to Tamlin.  It was going to be hard enough for him to broach that particular subject with her tonight, let alone confess his feelings for her.  He needed to take things slowly, one step at a time.  Otherwise, she would walk out of his life and he would lose her forever.    

Some of the devastation he was feeling must have been showing on his face because Nesta’s expression softened slightly as she implored, “Rhys, trust me.  Please.  I know my sister and she would want to know how you feel about her.”  Rhys was instantly struck by the softness and sincerity in her voice.  That, and the fact that she had just called him Rhys.  There was definitely more to Nesta than meets the eye, he decided.  

“We have drinks for everyone!” Mor chirped as she sauntered up to the group, hands laden with beer bottles.  Feyre, who was also holding several bottles, wasn’t far behind.  She passed one to her sister first.  After the rather heated conversation with Nesta, Rhys was feeling somewhat exposed as Feyre made eye contact and approached him.

“Here you go, Rhysee Poo,” she said in a sing-song voice as she offered him a beer.  Upon seeing her smile, he found himself beginning to relax.

“Why thank you, Darling,” he murmured, still somewhat unnerved.  Her brows narrowed in a silent question, one which he answered with a smile that was just for her.  

*******

Rhys watched as Mor and Feyre sashayed back to the table, arm in arm and giggling like fools.  After Mor’s endless badgering, Feyre had finally relented and joined her on the dance floor.  Cauldron, her smile was breathtaking.  

Before he could lose his nerve and chicken out, he asked with a smirk, “Care to join me for a minute out on the balcony, Darling?  It looks like you need to cool down.”  In all honesty, she did look slightly sweaty from her and Mor’s antics on the dance floor.  It was a good opportunity to get her on her own and talk- too good for him to pass up.  

“Sure, why not.  I could definitely use some fresh air.”   

As they walked outside, Rhys said a silent prayer to the Mother that the conversation he was about to have went smoothly.  Once they were outside, Feyre leaned up against the railing and gazed up at the sky.  

“Have I ever told you how much I love the night sky?”

“No, though I should have guessed since that’s what you painted me for my birthday.”  She smiled, her eyes remaining fixated on the night.  

Rhys walked up and leaned against the railing next to her, so close their elbows nearly touched.  They stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.  

Unsure of how to begin, he asked, “Enjoying yourself tonight?”

“Yup!  Watching Cassian and Nesta glaring at each other during dinner was rather entertaining,” she chuckled.

He snorted, “I bet you a hundred dollars that Nesta knees him in the balls again before the night is over.” They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“I wish I would have been there to see that!”

“Me too!  I think Cass has finally met his match.”

She turned her attention back to the view, still chuckling slightly.    

“I’m glad you came tonight.  We’ve missed you.”  The smile on her face instantly disappeared and her body stiffened.   

He turned his body so he was facing her more fully.  “I’ve been worried about you, you know.”

Feyre sighed heavily and turned to face him.  “I’m sorry I’ve been kinda distant lately.  I’ve… had a lot going on.”

“Like an engagement ring you’ve failed to mention?”  Feyre broke eye contact with him and stared down at the offending piece of jewelry.  Her continued silence began to make him uneasy, so he continued, “You know that you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Silence.  He wished he knew what was going through her head.  He placed a hand on her shoulder and said quietly, “Feyre?”  Her eyes finally lifted to meet his and he was lost in their blue-grey depths.  Standing this close together, they were nearly touching foreheads.  A stray curl had come loose and lay in front of her face.  He reached his hand out and tucked it behind her ear.  Her breath hitched ever so slightly at the contact.  He stared at her in wonder.  Was she… Did she… Could she… It happened so fast that he almost didn’t catch it- her eyes darted down to his lips quickly and then right back up to his eyes.  He ran a hand down her check and whispered, “Feyre, I..”

A bright flash of light stopped him in his tracks.  He and Feyre jumped apart and whipped around.  Mor stood grinning like a fiend while holding up her phone.  “I’ll send you the picture Fey.” With that, she turned around and flounced back inside.

“Well, we should get back to the party,” she stammered.  He watched as she practically ran inside and away from him.       

And just like that, the dream he had been living in came to an end.

 *******  

As they often did on Saturday afternoons, Rhys met Mor the following day at their favorite little bookstore.  They would frequently spend an hour or two perusing the books and then grab a coffee at the shop next door, something they had been doing for years.  They were currently sitting at a table near the window, enjoying their drinks when Mor’s phone began to vibrate.

“Huh. That’s strange.  Fey just messaged me on Facebook.  I don’t think she’s done that before.  She normally just texts.”

Rhys watched his cousin’s face become incredibly pale and horror stricken as she read the message.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he demanded.  

Unable to speak, she offered him the phone.  He wrenched the phone from her hand and quickly scanned the text.  

_Mor, I need you to come pick me up at Tamlin’s place now!!  Please get here as soon as you can! It’s an emergency!  I’ll explain everything later, but I need your help!  Please hurry!_

Rhys grabbed the keys off the table and was running out of the door in an instant, Mor following closely behind him.

His hands shook in fear as he turned the ignition.  Shit. Shit. Shit.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears! Please leave comments and feedback! I love reading your thoughts! Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	14. Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginning’s End

The drive to Tamlin’s house was pure hell for both Rhys and Mor.  In all actuality, it had only taken them about twenty minutes to get from the bookstore to the posh new housing development where _he_ and Feyre lived, far faster than it typically would have taken had he actually been driving anywhere near the speed limit.  It had seemed to take an incredibly excessive amount of time, though by Rhys’s standards.  By the look on Mor’s face, she agreed with him on that.  His thoughts and emotions were in such complete disarray, a frantic jumble of fear and confusion.  He and Mor sat in an uneasy silence, neither of them able to push their fear far enough away in order to form a complete sentence.  

When Rhys finally pulled into the driveway, his stomach lurched roughly.  He hadn’t even put the car in park yet when Mor opened up the door and bolted towards the house.  He switched off the ignition and ran after his cousin, desperate to get to Feyre.  When he finally caught up with Mor, she was unlocking the door with a set of keys he hadn’t even known she possessed.  He gave her a questioning look, one which she answered with a shake of her head.  Later, she seemed to say.  For now… now they needed to get to Feyre.  

Mor pushed open the door, yelling, “Fey? We’re here!”  He followed her as she walked through the threshold and into the house.  After taking just a few short steps. she halted so unexpectedly that he ran right into her back.  

“Mor… what the hell?” he snapped in both confusion and irritation.  And then he looked around at the scene that lay before him, and the cause of Mor’s sudden stop.  Trashed.  The whole house had been utterly and completely trashed.  Furniture was overturned. Nicknacks were shattered.  Glass from Cauldron knew where was sprinkled all over the floor.  Worst of all, there were several fist sized holes in the walls.    

“FEY! FEY!  Where are you?” Mor shrieked in panic.  Rhys’s heart slammed in his chest.  Where is she? Where is she? Where is she? She had to be okay.  He didn’t know what he would do if… No. He couldn’t, wouldn’t panic. Not yet, anyway.      

“Mor! Rhys! I’m in the bedroom. I’m trapped. Help!”  They could hear her somewhat muffled sobs coming from down the hall and to the left.  After a shared look of anger, they sprinted towards the sound of her voice.    

They immediately knew exactly where Feyre was as they entered the hallway.  Not because of her crying or pounding on the door.  No, it was because of the chair.  

“Fucking bastard,” he growled, as he removed the chair that had been positioned under the doorknob of the bedroom door, effectively locking Feyre in on the other side.

As soon as the chair was removed, Mor ripped open the door.  Feyre launched herself out of the room and into Mor’s awaiting arms.  Rhys stood there, watching as Feyre sobbed into his cousin’s shoulder, utterly and completely useless.

When her crying had subsided somewhat, Mor asked, “Fey, what happened?  Tell us what’s going on.”

Feyre took a step back from Mor and lifted her eyes to meet theirs.  An icy rage swept through him with such a ferocious intensity, unlike anything he had ever experienced before.   He clenched his fists at his side and snarled, low and harsh. He distantly heard Mor gasp in shock, or horror.  He wasn’t sure which.  Rhys didn’t trust himself to speak as he looked her over.  Her hair was disheveled and partly covered her face, which was flushed pink and streaked with tears.  Just barely visible beneath the hair was a deep purple bruise on her left cheek, right underneath her eye.  Rhys felt himself slip into a murderous calm.  Tamlin was currently living on borrowed time.  He swore viciously at marks he saw wrapping all the way around her neck, like a sick imitation of a necklace.  Oh yes.  Tamlin was currently living on extremely limited, borrowed time.   

“Let’s get you the hell out of here,” Mor said, wiping a tear from her own cheek.

“I packed a bag of things after I messaged you.  It’s in there,” Feyre wept.  

His heart broke a little more at the sound of her whimpering.  Without responding, Rhys walked into the room that had held his Feyre prisoner and grabbed the bag sitting on the floor, which he assumed was hers.  As he turned towards the door, an indistinct shimmer of light caught his attention.  Upon the dresser near the door lay two items.  One was a folded piece of paper that bore Tamlin’s name. The other was Feyre’s engagement ring.  Cauldron, he was such a selfish, fucking prick.  He had dreamt of the day she would break up with Tamlin.  He had envisioned her taking off that very ring and chucking it at _his_ head at least a hundred times.  But not like this.  He had never wanted her to have to go through this.

“Let’s go,” was all he could manage to say as he exited the room.  Mor wrapped an arm around Feyre’s shoulders and led her out of the house and to the car.  Feyre didn’t look back once as they pulled out of the driveway and sped off down the road.  

Rhys was having a hard time keeping his eyes, and his attention, fixed on the road.  His gaze kept wandering to the backseat where Feyre sat with her head resting on Mor’s shoulder.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mor asked hesitantly.

Feyre loosed a shuddering breath and began, “After I got home last night, Tam.” her voice broke on the name.

“You don’t have to tell us now.”

She lifted her head up off of Mor and said, “No, I want to.”  She bit her bottom lip and sucked in a breath.  “He was angry when I got home last night.  He hadn’t wanted me to go to the party to begin with.  We got into a pretty bad fight about it before I left, actually.”  She laughed bitterly. “Fighting is the only thing we’ve done for months.  About my career choice.  Working at Velaris. Being friends with you all. Everything.  Anyways, he started in again as soon as I got back.  I snapped at him.  Told him that marrying him didn’t mean he could control my life.  I had left the room to calm down.  Escape.  But I forgot that my phone was still in there with him.”

Mor’s face blanched and turned incredibly pale.  She sucked in a great breath of air, which she released along with with an unintelligible string of words.

“Holyshitfeyreiamsosorrythisisallmyfaultinevershouldhavetakenthatpictureiamsuchanidiotofcoursehesawitandiamsosorryiwillnevermeddleinanyone’slifeeveragain.”   

“Uhh… Mor?  Care to try that again? In English?” he said with a halfhearted smirk.  Mor didn’t pay him one bit of attention, though.  She was focused solely on Feyre.   

“He saw the picture I took of you and Rhys. Didn’t he?”  Feyre nodded in confirmation.  

It was now Rhys’s turn to let loose a string of words, the only one that either Feyre or Mor were able to catch was a four letter word beginning with an F.    

“After he broke my phone… Well, as you can see… He didn’t react very well.”

Mor grasped Feyre’s hands, tears flowing down both of their cheeks.  “Fey, I’m so sorry. I…”

“Don’t apologize, Mor. It’s not your fault.”  Mor enveloped Feyre in a fierce hug.  

When Mor finally released her, he asked, “Feyre Darling, I hate to ask you this now, but I need to know where we are headed.  Would you rather stay at Mor’s place tonight or mine?”

“I don’t want to bother either of you.  I would get a hotel room for the night, but he took my purse with him when he left this morning.”

“He took your fucking purse? Asshole!” Mor spat.  “That’s why you had to Facebook me.  He has your keys, wallet, and broke your phone.  I’m going to castrate that son of a bitch.”

Not wanting Mor’s anger to effect Feyre, Rhys cut in.  “Feyre, you wouldn’t be a bother if you tried.  Mor and I would both be happy to have you stay.”

Feyre bit her lip and glanced at Mor. “You have the pull-out couch, yeah?”

“Yup.  You’re more than welcome to stay Fey. I hope you know that.”

She nodded in understanding and glanced at Rhys. “I’ve never been to your place before.  Do you have a pull-out or something?”

“Well Darling, I have a spare bedroom furnished with a queen size bed.  It’s no pull-out, but you’re welcome to it,” his lame attempt at a joke was rewarded with a small snort.

“Well Rhysee Poo, it looks like you have yourself a roommate.”                            

*******

Rhys lingered near the threshold of the door as he watched Feyre sleeping fitfully.  Hidden amongst the darkened shadows of the night, there was little chance of him disturbing her sleep, restless as though it was..  It was nearly one o'clock in the morning and Feyre had been tossing and turning for hours.  He had yet to attempt to get any sleep himself, knowing exactly what nightmares would be haunting his dreams that evening.  He shook his head in attempt to clear the images of bruised flesh and tear stained cheeks from his mind.  When he and Mor had arrived at _his_ house and first laid eyes on Feyre, Rhys hadn’t thought it possible for him to feel any more devastated or guilty over what she had endured.  He had been very, very wrong.  His thoughts, which had been a raging and tumultuous mess since Feyre had first contacted Mor, began drifting back to earlier that evening.  Back to the moment when he realized exactly how badly she had been hurt.  

Though Mor had helped Feyre get settled into the guest room earlier that day, he had still felt the need to check on her and ensure that she had everything she needed before they both retired for the night. Her face had been void of any emotion, but exhaustion had lined every inch of her delicate features. She had simply shaken her head no, unable to muster the amount of energy needed to utter even a single word. Her arms were wrapped protectively around herself, as they had been throughout the entire day.

Rhys gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and said, “I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything.  Anything at all.”  She had just stared at him, her blue- grey eyes seemed empty and hollow without their usual sparkle, which had been one of the many things that he had grown to love about her since that fateful night they had met.    

“Good night, Darling.”  

With a heavy heart, Rhys turned to leave the guest room and give her the space that he was sure she so desperately needed.  However, when he reached for the door, intending to close it, she gasped.  He whipped his head around in surprise.  What could have caused such a reaction from her?  After all, she hadn’t even made the slightest of noises or uttered so much as a single word in hours.  His heart damn near shattered into a million pieces as he took in the look of terror etched on her face.

“Nnnooooo. Please leave it open,” she managed to get out, her voice breaking and heavy with emotion.  Rhys’s whole body froze in place as he struggled not to fall apart right then and there.  Feyre had enough of her own emotions to deal with at the moment and definitely didn't need to witness him losing his shit.  

When he was able to mask the depths of the rage and anguish he was feeling, he said quietly, “Of course, Darling.  I’ll leave my door open, too.  Just in case you need anything.”

Rhys opened the door as wide as it could possibly go.  He stared at her, unsure of what to say or what to do.  He wished there was something, anything he could do to take away the hurt she was feeling.  He attempted to give her his signature smirk, but could only manage a small, lackluster smile.   

“Good night,” she whispered hoarsely, still standing next to the bed with her arms wrapped snugly around her chest.  

“Good night.”

As the memory slowly faded, Rhys felt a surge of determination.  Bit by bit this evening, as he quietly stood watch over Feyre, he had begun to formulate a plan.  With one final look at the woman who had captured his heart so completely, he walked into his bedroom and closed the door as quietly as possible.  He would fulfill his promise to Feyre and keep his door open while he slept.  But before he went to sleep, he had a phone call to make.  A phone call he did not want her knowing about just yet.  Not until the time was right.  He picked up his cell, found the number he was looking for, and pressed the call button.  

After several rings, a familiar voice heavy with sleep answered, “Hello?”  Shit. Rhys must have woken him up.  Thank the Cauldron he answered anyways.  

“Az, I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! Please let me know what you think. Constructive criticism and feedback are always welcome. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :) 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	15. A Valentine's Day Bonus Chapter

The clinic hadn’t actually been that difficult to find, much to Cassian’s relief.  There was, in fact, only one veterinarians clinic within a twenty mile radius of the Prythian Mall.  Cassian absentmindedly stroked the fur on Bryaxis’s head as he stared at the building’s entrance.  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.  Rhys had warned him that his plan would most likely end up backfiring, causing infinitely more harm than good.  Maybe he was right.  No. Rhys meant well, but he was wrong in this instance.  Cassian knew what he was doing.  If he wanted to have a chance in hell of breaking through Nesta’s cold exterior, he would need to do something unexpected.  When they had first met, he had not been prepared for the malevolent, fierce storm that was Nesta Archeron.  She had not been exactly warm and friendly or given the slightest indication that she was even remotely interested in him, but there was just something about her.  He hadn’t been able to get her off of his mind in days.

Cass steeled his nerves as he walked through the door, holding on tightly to Bryaxis’s leash.  Bells sounded as he entered, alerting the person behind the desk of his arrival.

“I’ll be right with you,” Nesta said in a pleasant voice.  She was currently facing away from him, searching through a large file cabinet.   

He attempted to don his usual confident swagger as he and his best friend approached.  She twisted around to face him, a large smile upon her face.  The sight of her hit him like a physical blow.  Her golden- brown hair was pinned back in a bun.  The blue scrubs and white lab coat she was wearing were, quite frankly, extremely attractive.  Her eyes narrowed in recognition as she took him in.  

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“Hello, Sweetheart.” he drawled.  Just as expected, her cheeks turned a bright shade of red. Adorable.

“I do not have time for this, you idiot. What do you want?”

“Is that anyway to treat a prospective client? I must say, I’m disappointed.  And this clinic had come so highly recommended, too.” he said with mock indignation.

She looked momentarily stunned, but recovered quickly.  “Client?”

“Well, as it so happens, I’m looking for a new vet for my dog.”  He motioned towards the fur ball next to him.

As Nesta turned her attention Bryaxis, Cass watched an unexpected expression crossed her face, one he had never thought he would see from her.  Nesta, to his astonishment, practically melted at the sight of his black lab.  

“Oh! Who is this handsome fellow?” she cooed.

“This pain in the butt is Bryaxis.”

Nesta knelt down and began stroking and petting his furry face.  “You’re not a pain in the butt, are you handsome? No, you’re not!” she said in a baby voice.  She giggled, actually giggled as his dumb dog licked her face.  No wonder she had become a vet, he mused.  She was amazing!  She stood up and considered him, with much less frost in her eyes than had been there before.  That was a good sign.  A very good sign.  Maybe there was a chance for them, after all.  

“So, you said you were wanting a new vet for Bryaxis.  You’ll have to make an appointment for a preliminary examination.  We are booked solid for the rest of the week, but we might be able to fit you in sometime early next week.”

“Whatever time you have open is fine.  My boss is pretty flexible,” he smirked.    

She rolled her eyes and said, “Well, let’s see what we have available.  Her hips swished as she sauntered over to the counter.  Cassian’s eyes remained unashamedly fixed on her amazing backside.  After a few quick keystrokes, the appointment was scheduled.  And he had another excuse to see this gorgeous, fiery woman again.     

“Well, I think we’re all set.  Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked.  It was almost unnerving how nice she was being.  Well, it was now or never.

He squared his shoulders and smiled brightly.  “Well, actually… Bryaxis was wondering if you would like to join us for dinner tonight.”

Her mouth flew open as she stared at him in utter shock.   

*******

Cassian stumbled towards the car in a confused daze.  Bryaxis, who was sniffing at the ground in earnest, was completely oblivious of the turmoil his owner was currently experiencing.  Cass removed the phone from his jacket pocket and scrolled through his contacts.  He stared intently at the device as he considered his options.  Az or Rhys?  Az was better at giving advice but Rhys had plenty of experience dealing with an Archeron woman.  Rhys it was.  He quickly found the number and pressed the call button.  By the fucking Cauldron, he was going on a date with Nesta Archeron! His emotions were in such a tailspin, that he nearly forgot to breath.  He honestly didn’t know if he should be excited or scared out of his mind.  Both.  Definitely both.  Nesta wasn’t like any woman he had ever met before.  She didn’t throw herself at him simply because of his good looks.  Cassian had plenty of relationships over the years that were purely of a physical nature.  Recently though, he had been craving more from a relationship.  He was no longer satisfied with the one night stands and shallow, empty encounters.  

He had never given much thought about settling down before, but Nesta… Nesta was different.  Cassian could see it all so vividly, as though he were watching a movie on a big theater screen.  He imagined the dates they would go on, the holidays they would celebrate together, and how they would eventually fall head over heels in love with one another.  Hell, he could even envision the proposal he would no doubt botch, though she would mercifully still say yes.  He pictured how beautiful she would look in her wedding dress.  How she looked while pregnant with their first child.  Cass could see their whole future together… and it scared the living hell out of him.

“How did it go?  Are you still going to be able to have children anytime soon?” Rhys sounded as though he were barely able to contain his amusement.    

“She didn’t kick me in the balls again, you prick.” he ground out.

“What happened?  Did she throw you out on your ass?”

“She said yes,” Cassian wasn’t able to keep the wonder in his voice at bay.  Is this how Rhys felt every time he thought about Feyre?  How in the name of the Cauldron had he been able to get any work done these past few months?  He definitely owed Rhys an apology for all of the teasing he had put him through.   

“What the fuck?” Rhys roared in surprise.

Okay, so maybe the apology was premature. Prick.

“What do I do?  I don’t have any reservations, or plans, or anything.  I didn’t think she would actually agree to go to dinner with me.  I’m freaking out here, Rhys. Help!” Cassian begged, near panic.

“Don’t worry brother. We’ll help you get your girl.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!! Hope you enjoyed this little snippet! Please leave comments and feedback! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	16. Mother Hen

True to his word, Rhys had gone to sleep that night with his bedroom door left ajar.  He had always been a light sleeper, a fact which he was now extremely grateful for.  Mere seconds ago, he had been pulled out of an uneasy sleep by the sound of Feyre’s footsteps as she bolted from the guest bedroom to the bathroom directly across the hall.  After a piss- poor attempt to extract his legs from the sheet in which they had become so horribly entangled, he stumbled out of the bed.  A slew of vulgar curse words erupted from his mouth.  A quick glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand confirmed that it was still early in the morning.  Though he had only gone to sleep a few hours ago, he was now feeling wide awake.  Driven on by his increasing apprehension, he hurried down the hall.  He flinched slightly at the onslaught of bright light as he neared his destination.  

His eyes soon adjusted to the light that cascaded into the hallway from the opened bathroom door.  His thoughts momentarily flashed back to earlier that evening- back to Feyre’s frantic reaction to the bedroom door closing.  He assumed that this was due to a fear of being trapped again.  Rhys’s stomach roiled at the thought.  He clenched his jaw, a futile attempt to stifle his growing rage.  The sounds of her retching brought him out of his wrathful state and hastened his footsteps.  Rhys absolutely despised how utterly and completely useless he was in this situation.  In all honesty, he hadn't felt this inept for years- not since Mor had been kicked out of her parent’s house.  It had been two days before she had shown up on his doorstep.  Two days which he spent in a perpetual state of panic and helplessness.   

The scene before him threatened to shatter what remained of his broken and battered soul.  Feyre was kneeling on the tile floor, hunched over the toilet as she heaved up the remnants of the meager dinner he and Mor had coaxed her into eating.  Rhys purposely slammed his knuckle on the door as he entered, making sure she was aware of his presence.  The last thing he wanted to do was startle or scare her, not after everything she had endured at Tamlin’s hands.  Though she had made no indication that his company was unwelcome, he approached her cautiously.  As gently as he could, he ran his fingers through her hair and pulled it away from her face.  He studied her, gauging her reaction as he gathered her silky smooth locks in a loose fist which he held near the nape of her neck.    

Ennobled by her acceptance of his touch, he began rubbing her back in small, soothing circles with his other hand. She was letting him touch her. Feyre, who had just had _that monster_ lay his hands on her, was letting Rhys comfort her.  He let himself savor that fact for the briefest of moments, an overwhelming feeling of pride enveloped him.  Feyre trusted him.    

Bringing his attention back to his Feyre, he said, “Relax and try to breath. It will be over soon.”  

When her retching finally subsided, Feyre rested her forehead upon her arm, which was draped along the seat of the toilet. Without letting go of her hair or ceasing his ministrations on her back, Rhys shuffled over to the bathtub and sat atop the ledge. She turned her head and her red rimmed eyes met his.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” she croaked.

“Please do not apologize, Darling.  I’m glad I woke up,” he said honestly.

“You’re glad?  So what… you enjoyed being in the the bathroom with me while I puked my guts up?  While I’m a mess?”  A tear fell from the corner of her eye and down to the tip of her nose.  Rhys knew she wasn’t angry at him, not really.  He longed to wipe the tear away, but didn’t know if she would allow it.  He ached to touch her, envelope her in a hug and never let her go.  He slowly brought his hand forward, moving slowly so she could see his every move and intention. He paused, giving her enough time to move away if she so desired. When she didn’t, he slowly leaned forward and gently wiped the tear away.

“You have every right to be a mess right now, given what you’ve been through. And yes… I’m glad I’m in here with you. I wouldn’t want you to be alone right now.” His hand left her face and it returned to making soothing strokes on her back.  

“Mother hen. You’re worse than Mor, you know,” she said, voice barely a whisper.  Though her words were teasing, her face remained despondent.   

He gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and said, “Mor cares about you. We all do.”

Feyre squeezed her eyes shut and gave him a small nod.  She loosed a shuddering breath and divulged, “It was a nightmare.  About what happened.  About him.”

The hand that had been lovingly rubbing her back came to a stop.  It was the only reaction he’d allow himself to show.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Feyre slowly lifted her body off of the toilet and moved into a sitting position.  Rhys gently released his hold of her hair and let his hands drop to his sides.  He immediately missed the feel of her.  Missed the warmth of her body.  

She sat facing him, knees up against her chest.  Feyre wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees.  They gazed silently at each other for a moment.

Maybe if he shared a part of his past with her, she would one day be able to share her pain, her truth with others.  “I have this dream about the night my family was killed.  I can see the car crash coming and try to stop it.  But I can’t do anything to stop it, no matter how hard I try. I can’t do anything but watch and listen to their screams as they die.”

“How often do you dream about it?”  Her eyes flickered down to the ground, where they remained.  She was no doubt wondering how long she was to be plagued by these horrible images.

“Not as often as before.”  His face was uncharacteristically grave.  “It may take time Feyre, but the nightmares will begin to fade.” Though her eyes remained downcast, she nodded her head once.  

He eased himself off the bathtub slowly and stretched his stiff limbs.  “Come on.  Let’s get you back to bed, Feyre Darling.”  

*******

Feyre remained in the bedroom for the entirety of the next day.  Rhys had tried to coax her into leaving the room long enough to join him for dinner, but she had rebuffed his efforts.  Feyre had remained sequestered in the bedroom- adamantly refusing to leave, other than the occasional trips to the bathroom that is.  He made sure to bring her dinner, which he was rather unsuccessful in getting her to eat.  Feyre was currently asleep, which is why he was sitting alone on the couch and staring at a blank television screen.  His chirping phone brought him out of his morose stupor.  He glanced at the device and rolled his eyes.  He should have known.

**_The Queen:_ ** _How is she?_

He sighed, not knowing how to communicate Feyre’s current condition.  

**_Prince Prick:_ ** _She’s sleeping right now._

**_The Queen:_ ** _How is she holding up?_

**_Prince Prick:_ ** _Not great._

**_Prince Prick:_** _Mor, I’m worried about her._

**_The Queen:_ ** _Me too, Rhys. What can I do?_

**_Prince Prick:_ ** _Honestly, I don’t know. Just be there for her._

**_Prince Prick:_ ** _Listen to her when she’s ready to talk.  That’s all we can do right now._

**_The Queen:_ ** _And how are you, cousin?_

**_Prince Prick:_ ** _I’m fine. Besides, I’m not the one who was hurt._

**_The Queen:_ ** _No, but the woman you are in love with is in pain._

**_The Queen:_ ** _You’re hurting too._

**_Prince Prick:_ ** _I’m fine._

**_The Queen:_ ** _You’re insufferable._

He snorted at her snarky response.

**_Prince Prick:_ ** _Insufferable I might be, but you still love me._

**_The Queen:_ ** _That I do. Take care of yourself too. Please._

**_Prince Prick:_ ** _I will._

**_The Queen:_ ** _Good. Take care of our girl. Let me know if either of you need anything!_

**_Prince Prick:_ ** _Yes ma'am._

**_Prince Prick:_ ** _Love you, Mor._

**_The Queen:_ ** _I know! ;)_

**_The Queen:_ ** _Love you too!_

As he hung up the phone, Rhys prayed to the Cauldron that he was strong enough to help Feyre get through this.  

*******

The past week had been difficult, to say the least.  Rhys had decided to take some time off from work, opting to stay at home with Feyre rather than attempt to go in to the office.  He had wanted to be available if she needed him.  He also knew, without a doubt, that he would not be able to concentrate on his work while she was sitting in the apartment all alone.  So the week has passed slowly, with him either mindlessly staring at his laptop or fussing over Feyre.  She had seen fit to spend much of her time in the bed, staring up at the ceiling in silence.

Though Feyre had reluctantly resumed attending her classes yesterday, she still found being around other people somewhat overwhelming.  The physical marks of her ordeal were almost completely healed by now.  The emotional ones, however, would take longer.  She had declined Mor’s invitation to stay at her tiny place for the weekend, opting instead to remain at the apartment with him.  Rhys had felt a little fragment of his shattered heart begin to mend at knowledge that Feyre felt comfortable with her current living arrangement.  Cauldron knew she deserved to feel safe.  Earlier that evening, when Feyre had emerged from her room, he had suggested they spend the evening watching a movie.  Much to his delight, she had agreed.  Though Rhys had been ecstatic that she was choosing to spend an evening someplace other than in her bedroom, he hadn’t wanted to make a big deal of it lest he drive her back into seclusion.

“What shall it be, Darling?  We could do a Harry Potter or Star Wars marathon.  Your choice.”

Feyre shuffled over to his dvd collection, eyes roaming the titles.  She reached a hand out and stroked the spine of one and inquired, “The Hobbit… isn’t this the book Mor got you for your birthday?”  

“Yes. It’s one of my favorites.  Have you read it?”

She scoffed, “No.  I haven’t seen any of the movies either.”

He looked at her in mock horror and hisses, “You’re kidding me?!”

Feyre just shrugged her shoulders.  

Rhys shook his head and drawled, “We are going to have to fix that horendous oversight, if your okay with it that is.”

Her face was inscrutable, but she nodded in agreement.  “I’m going to change. You get the popcorn ready for us.”

He smirked, “As you wish, Feyre Darling.”

She rolled her eyes at him and sauntered back to her bedroom.  To change.  And Cauldron damn him to hell, he tried not to think about the fact that she was undressing in the next room.  His eyes flickered to her bedroom door, which was open.  Feyre had left the door open again while she was undressing, as she had everyday since moving in.  It was getting more difficult to keep his eyes, and other body parts, from roaming in that direction as she did so.   

Right before he did something he was sure to regret, his phone rang.  Oh, thank the Cauldron!

Rhys snickered when he saw Cass’s name on his phone.  He was probably licking his wounds after his encounter with the one and only Nesta Archeron.

Not able to keep the laugher from his voice he answered, “How did it go?  Are you still going to be able to have children anytime soon?”

“She didn’t kick me in the balls again, you prick,” Cass retorted.  

“What happened?  Did she throw you out on your ass?”  

Rhys did have to give his brother credit for his creativity and determination.  The plan had been bound to fail, though.  A puppy?  Just to impress a girl?  Not a good idea.  Rhys had tried to warn him that it was a bad idea.  Besides, if she said no, he’s still be stuck with the damn creature for years.  But, it seemed as though Cass was going to learn that the hard way.

“She said yes.”

“What the fuck?” Rhys roared in surprise. There was no way in hell that Nesta had agreed!  

“What do I do?  I don’t have any reservations, or plans, or anything.  I didn’t think she would actually agree to go to dinner with me.  I’m freaking out here, Rhys. Help!” Cassian begged, near panic.

Using the same words Cassian had once used on him, he said, “Don’t worry brother. We’ll help you get your girl.”  

*******

Just as he was hanging up the phone, Feyre reentered the room.

She quirked an eyebrow at him and asked, “What’s so funny?  I could hear you laughing clear from the other room.”

He chuckled, “Cassian just called.  You’re not going to believe this, but he’s got a date with Nesta tonight.”

Feyre stared at him slack jawed.  She gasped in shock, “You’re not serious!”

“Oh, but I am Darling! Casian is preparing for their date as we speak,” he announced, still trying to wrap his head around the situation himself.  

She flopped down on the sofa next to him and demanded, “Tell me everything.” So he did.  

Over the past week, he had become accustomed to having Feyre living with him.  He had come to cherish these moments, the small day to day interactions between them.  He wasn’t sure how long she would be stay, though he selfishly hoped she stayed forever.  The only thing Rhys knew for sure was he was completely and irrevocably in love with Feyre Archeron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this update! Please let me know what you think!! I appreciate comments and constructive criticism! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> FairyPrincessKjar
> 
>    
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	17. Valentine’s Day Bonus Chapter: Part Two

Cassian stared dubiously at the grey, gelatinous glob as he prodded the substance with a wooden spoon.  He had never attempted to cook this particular dish before, but he was pretty sure that vodka sauce was not supposed to have the consistency of caramel.  He covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly. Rhys had assured him that it was an easy meal to cook. His brother was the culinary master of the family though, not him.  Cassian swore viciously as a noxious order began emanating from the gooey mess. Of course Rhys would have to suggest cooking a fancy meal! He should have just made spaghetti. That, at least, would have turned out to be edible.  Bad! This was so incredibly bad! As he scraped the foul contents of the pan into the trash can, he contemplated his options. There was no way that he would be able to get reservations anywhere. Every decent restaurant was bound to be packed tonight.  He began pacing back and forth across the tile floor. Maybe he should just cancel the dinner. What other choice did he have? He trudged into the living room, nearly tripping over Bryaxis in the process, and flopped down onto the couch.

He absentmindedly stroked the head of his energetic puppy.  Bryaxis had deposited a ball at his feet and was wagging his tail enthusiastically, vying for his attention.  Cassian pulled his phone out and stared at Nesta’s name. As he did, his thoughts drifted back to his unforgettable encounter with her earlier that day.  

He regretted his impetuous plan immediately after asking her to dinner.  He resisted the urge to fidget as she openly gawked at him. He half expected her to knee him in the balls again, but instead, she began laughing.  Laughing! He backed away, ready to admit defeat, when she surprised him once again.

“At least you’re original.  I’ll give you that,” she snorted.

“Is that a yes?” he asked hopefully, a small smile on his face.  

Nesta eyed him thoughtfully, and said, “Give me your phone.”   

So… was that a yes?  His thoughts swirled in confusion.  She was still talking to him, so that was a good sign.  Right? He silently handed her his device, giving her a questioning look.

“Text me your address.  I’ll come over as soon as I close up here,” she said, biting her bottom lip.  Cauldron, those lips! He had been fantasizing about biting that lip himself since the moment he met her.  Not able to stop the images from forming in his mind, he felt himself begin to harden.

 _He broke away from her, panting heavily.  He smirked as she pouted at the loss of contact.  He leaned forward and captured her bottom lip with his teeth, nipping her slightly.  Cassian could spend all day kissing her. He smiled slightly as he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth and then along her jaw.  Nesta tilted her head slightly, offering him better access. A small moan escaped her mouth as he left a trail of small, gentle kisses down the length of her neck.  Her fingers were entangled in his hair, tugging him ever so slightly closer to her. He felt her shiver as he ran a knuckle over one of her nipples, already peaked and visible through her shirt.  The sound his touch elicited from Nesta had him involuntarily bucking his hips into hers._         

He shook his head to clear away the fantasy.  Shit, he needed to get control of himself. Cassian shifted Bryaxis’s paperwork in a desperate attempt to cover up the evidence of his arousal.  He prayed to the Cauldron that she hadn’t already noticed his hard on.

“What time do you close up?” he stammered.  There was something about her that completely threw him off his game.  He was behaving like a complete lovesick teenager!

“Seven.”

He grinned impishly at her.  “See you at seven, Sweetheart.”

Bringing himself back to the present, he ran a hand through his hair.  No, he couldn’t back out now. She had actually agreed to the date, and if he cancelled now… he wouldn’t get another chance.  He had an hour before Nesta arrived. What the hell was he going to do?

An idea began forming in his mind, causing a smile to appear upon his face.  He quickly found the number he was looking for and pressed the call button. His brother picked up after the second ring.  Thank the Cauldron!

“How’d it go? Icing your balls already?”   

“Oh, fuck off Az!  I need your help.”      

*******

Cass adjusted the collar of his shirt as he regarded his reflection.  He was wearing dark blue denim jeans and a red polo shirt. Not too dressy, but not overly casual.  His long hair was still slightly damp from the shower he had just taken, but he would most likely put it up soon anyways. Satisfied that he at least looked decent, he left the bathroom.  He stood in the middle of the living room and gazed around the apartment. He was, not for the first time in his life, extremely grateful that Az was such a neat freak. While his own room was a disaster, the rest of the apartment was immaculate.  He didn’t intend to show her his bedroom anyhow. Nesta was definitely not the type of woman who would want to have sex on a first date. If he were being honest with himself, Cassian knew that if she were to step a single foot in his room, he was more than likely to pounce on her.  

He reined in his thoughts before they went down a dangerous direction.  As much as he was physically attracted to her, he was just as genuinely interesting in getting to know her.  Cass wanted this, whatever this thing was between them, to work. That, and he wouldn’t have enough time to deal with the consequences of thinking about Nesta in his bedroom.  Naked. Shit. He was so fucked.

The table was set and dinner was being kept warm in the oven.  Now the only thing he had to do was wait for Nesta’s arrival. Cass tried, rather unsuccessfully, to calm his nerves.  Bryaxis was amusing himself, for once, by pouncing on stuffed animal Az had gotten for him. Cass smiled at the puppy’s antics.  Whether or not he and Nesta worked out, at least he had ended up with this goofball. His thoughts were interrupted by a tentative knock on the door.

He rushed over to the door and pulled it open, nearly hitting his head in his haste.  

Nesta smirked, “Careful.”

He attempted to come up with a witty retort, but was momentarily distracted by her appearance.  He was pleased to see that she was also wearing jeans. The black blouse she wore was cut just low enough to accentuate her ample cleavage.  Cassian was going to have a difficult time keeping his eyes focused on hers tonight and not on...

As before, her hair was pulled back into a messy bun.  He itched to tuck a stray tendril of hair, which was resting on her cheek, behind her ear.  Never in his life had he seen a more beautiful sight.

“So… are you going to invite me in or just keep staring?”  

He groaned inwardly. Idiot! Great way to start the date!  He stepped aside and bowed with a dramatic flourish, “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Nesta walked in and handed him a bottle of wine he hadn’t noticed her carrying.

“Here.  Since you said you were cooking, I figured I should bring the wine,” she said.

He mentally smacked himself.  How could he have forgotten the wine?  

“Oh, thanks!  I actually forgot to grab some, so this is perfect.  Make yourself at home while I pour us a drink.”

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he opened the bottle.  It didn’t take Bryaxis long to prance over to her and demand attention.  Cassian grinned as Nesta knelt down and began petting the mutt.

“There you are!  You are such a cutie!” she cooed.

“I swear, my dogs likes you better than me!”

“Well, dogs are very smart creatures,” Nesta said, shooting a triumphant look in his direction.  He walked over to the pair, chuckling as he handed her a glass.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving.  I worked straight through lunch today.”

“I hope you’re not one of those girls who says that and then says they’re full after eating a single carrot.”

Nesta snorted, “Definitely not.”

He grinned, “Good.” Cassian offered his arm to her.  Nesta rolled her eyes, but placed her arm in his. As they walked to the table, he snuck a glance at her.  The expression on her face seemed… soft, happy even.

“You look beautiful tonight, Sweetheart,” he said.  He was extremely satisfied to see her blush a brilliant shade of red.  

She gave him a once over and smirked, “You clean up pretty well yourself, batboy.”

“Batboy?”

“Did you really think I was going to miss the collection of Batman toys on the bookshelf over there?”

He scoffed, “I have nothing to be ashamed of.  Batman is awesome. Have you seen the latest movie?” He pulled a chair out for her and motioned for her to sit.  He quickly grabbed the food from the oven. He really owed his brother big time for this. Az had called in an order at Cass’s favorite restaurant and then gone to pick it up.  He had arrived with the food mere minutes before Nesta.

“Yeah, I saw it.  It was alright.”

As he placed the food on the table, he gave her a skeptical look.  “Alright? Just alright?”

She raised a brow at him, “Star Wars is better.  No competition.”

Cassian’s jaw dropped.  What. The. Hell? “There’s no way you like Star Wars!”

“What? Is that so hard to believe?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he said, “Well, yeah. You don’t seem like the type.”

Nesta, to her credit, only laughed. “I know.  I’m able to blend in. You, on the other hand, look exactly like a Star Wars nerd.  No blending in for you.”

“A nerd?  That’s a bit harsh, sweetheart.”  

She rolled her eyes, “Are you going to continue letting the food get cold as you gawk like an idiot, or can we eat?”

The shock of finding out that the woman he was pretty sure he was in love with also shared his biggest obsession had caused him to momentarily forget all about the food.  

“Of course,” he said, pulling himself out of his shocked status.  “I hope you like pasta.” He had wanted to talk to Feyre to find out more about Nesta prior to the date, but given recent events, it hadn’t seemed like a good idea.   

“Yes, I love it.  Thank you for cooking, by the way,” she said with sincerity.

Cassian felt heat creep up along his cheeks as he stammered, “Well, ummm…. actually….”   

Nesta looked at him suspiciously.  “You didn’t cook this, did you? Don’t tell me Rhysand did it for you!”

He ran a hand through his hair and said sheepishly, “No.”  He sighed dramatically and began divulging the details of his earlier debacle with the sauce.   

Nesta was biting her lip so hard that Cassian was sure she would draw blood.  Her eyes sparkled and her shoulders began shaking.

“Nesta?”

As if a damn had burst, she began roaring with laughter.     

*******

This was, without question, the best date Cassian had ever been on.  Not only was Nesta smart, she had no problem calling him out on his shit.  He hadn’t laughed this much in years, thanks to her wicked sense of humor. He was constantly surprised by how much they actually had in common.    

He laughed as she recounted the story of the vicious pug that she had to deal with earlier that morning.  She glanced at her watch and hissed, “Shit. I didn’t realize how late it gotten. I should go.”

He tried to keep his disappointment from showing as he said, “I had fun tonight.”

She smiled shyly, “So did I, surprisingly.”

He ran a hand through his hair and gathered his courage. “Would it be okay if I called you tomorrow?”

Cauldron damn him, she bit her bottom lip again as she nodded her head yes.  His eyes moved from her lips up to her eyes.

He dared to take a step closer and took her hand in his.  “I would really like to kiss you right now.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him and challenged, “What are you waiting for then?”

Cassian grinned as he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer.  As his lips crashed down upon hers, he realized exactly what had been missing from his life these past few years.          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this update! I had originally planned for it being a little snippet, but it ended up a lot longer. Sorry for the long wait... adulting is hard! lol Anyways, please leave me comments and feedback! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> FairyPrincessKjar
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	18. Facing Fears

“You can’t be serious, Rhys.  You’ve seen that movie at least a million times!  We are not watching it again,” Mor groaned, throwing herself onto the couch dramatically.  He felt a twinge of irritation as his cousin stretched out her legs, unabashedly placing her feet in Feyre’s lap.  Feyre, to her credit, didn’t seem to mind. Biting back a curse, he took a seat in the recliner closest to Feyre.  Mor, instantly realizing what she had done, winked at him sassily.                     

Putting aside his irritation at not being able to sit next to his… next to Feyre, he huffed, “Come on! It’s a classic.”  

“Pffffft.  Sharknado is not a classic, you dork.”  Mor paused, resting her hands behind her head, and then smirked, “We’re watching 50 Shades.”

“Oh, hell no! I’m not watching that smut with you!  Darling, back me up here,” he implored, turning his gaze to the woman he was utterly and completely in love with.  Feyre, however, was staring off into space, oblivious to the conversation happening around her. She was absentmindedly toying with the the thin, golden chain dangling around her neck, which she tended to do whenever she was thinking about Tamlin.  It was one the many nervous habits she had exhibited lately. One that, much to his satisfaction, seemed to be happening less and less frequently.

“Fey?” Mor snapped, nudging Feyre’s leg slightly with her foot.

“Huh? Oh, sorry Mor.  What did you say?” she stuttered, cheeks turning slightly pink.  

Mor nudged her again playfully and said, “We were just deciding what movie to watch. Rhys, of course, has picked out the worst one imaginable.  He’s over there sulking because I suggested 50 Shades.”

Feyre’s face blanched as she sputtered, “Not that one. How about Harry Potter?”

Rhys felt his blood run cold.  That bastard! For her to have such a visceral reaction at the mere suggestion of watching a movie containing a BDSM relationship… Tamlin would pay.  Rhys would see that he paid in kind for every single wound that had been inflicted upon her. He made a mental note for himself to call Az later that evening.  Hopefully, his brother had been able to make some progress in achieving their goals.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, Fey!” I didn’t even think…” Mor cried as she bolted upright.  Feyre shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, though her face was clouded with a mixture of fear and anger.  

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Feyre said quietly, pinching the bridge of her nose roughly.   

“What the hell are you apologizing for, Fey?” Mor hissed, narrowing her eyes slightly.  

Feyre shrugged her shoulders once more before saying, “For being a fucking mess that can’t even watch a stupid movie without having a nervous breakdown.”  

Rhys jumped off his chair and quickly closed the distance between them.  Kneeling before her, he took her trembling hands in his.

Her stormy blue-grey eyes swam with tears as he said, “Feyre Darling, you have nothing to apologize for.  Absolutely nothing.” She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. Rhys watched her lips move as she silently counted to ten.  Good girl. When Feyre opened her eyes again, she gave him a small smile.

“What would I do without you, Rhysee- poo?” she asked, leaning forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder.  He inhaled her scent greedily, letting it sooth his nerves and remind him that she was here. She was safe. He pulled back just enough to press his lips against her forehead.

He smirked, “Well, you’ll never have to find out, Feyre Darling. You’re stuck with me.”

She snorted, “Prick.” He flashed her a grin as he stood from the floor.  He glanced over at his cousin who had remained suspiciously quiet through his and Feyre’s interaction.  He was stunned by what he saw. Mor sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, tears streaming down her face.

“Mor? What’s wrong?” he asked, brows furrowing.  Feyre shot him a confused look as she slid over to Mor, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Mor…”

“I’m so sorry Fey.  I never meant any of this to happen,” she whispered, so quietly Rhys difficulty making out some of her words.

“It was just a movie. No big deal,” Feyre murmured.  

“Not just the movie, Fey.  Everything. All of it. It’s all my fault,” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands.  He and Feyre traded equally confused and distressed looks as he sat on the other side of the couch, effectively sandwiching Mor between them.  

“Mor, what are you talking about?” he asked gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  Mor slowly removed the hands, uncovering her tear stained cheeks.

She roughly wiped the tears away and said in a heavy voice, “The night of Velaris’s anniversary party… That picture I took of the two of you…” she sucked in a deep breath, steeling her nerves as she continued, “It looked as though the two of you were about to kiss.” Rhys’s expression hardened as white hot anger began to surge though him.

Feyre squeaked, “What?”

Mor laughed bitterly, “I knew if I sent you the photo to you, Tamlin would be sure to see it.”  Feyre’s face went impossibly pale.

“Explain yourself.  Right now, Morrigan,” he growled, pulling his arm away from her.   

“I knew he looked through your phone, Fey.  You never said it, but you didn’t have to. I knew.  I figured that if he saw the photo of you and Rhys, he’s overreact.  He’d say something stupid and you’d break it off with him. I never thought… I didn’t know…  I’m so sorry, Fey,” she wailed.

Feyre sat in a stunned silence as she gaped at Mor.  By the Cauldron, what had she been thinking? Mor had been known to pull some crazy stunts in the past, but this… This was a far cry from trying to set Cassian up with Nesta.  And look where it had gotten them? What it had done to his Feyre…. He shook his head in disgust.

“I know you probably hate me now, and you have every right to. I just thought you deserved to know the truth.”  Damn straight she did. He glowered at Mor, crossing his arms over his chest.

They sat in a stony silence until Mor whispered, “Fey, please say something.”  To his surprise, Feyre enveloped Mor in a bone crushing hug. Rhys sat perched on the edge of the couch, eyeing Mor warily.  Feyre may have already forgiven his cousin, but it would take some time before he would be able to do the same.

“It’s not your fault, Mor.  If it hadn’t been the picture, it would have been something else to provoke his temper.  Tamlin is at fault, not you,” Feyre said ferociously. Rhys didn’t think that he had ever been more proud than he was at that moment, listening to Feyre finally acknowledge that it had not been her fault.  

“I love you Fey.”

“Love you too, Morrigan.”

*******

Rhys drummed his fingers on the desktop, refusing to succumb to the withering glare that his second in command was shooting in his direction.  

“No. Find another way, Amren,” he instructed.

“There is no other way, Rhysand,” she hissed, placing her hands on her hips.  

His eyes narrowed as he snapped, “Tell Tarquin that he can shove his demands right up his…”

“Rhysand, we need this deal.  Tarquin personally guaranteed me that he would sign with Velaris if you agree to his terms,” Amren said, quirking a brow at him.  

He pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed, “It’s not that simple and you know it.  I would be more than happy to meet with him. But… let him know, in no uncertain terms, that the artist in question will not be joining us.”

“You are letting your personal feelings for her cloud your judgement,” she sneered.

Rhys narrowed his eyes and snarled, “You’re out of line, Amren.”

With a dangerous glint in her eye, she pointed a perfectly manicured nail at his chest and said, “No, you’re out of line.  Rhysand, have you even discussed it with her?”

Of course he hadn’t.  He wasn’t about to introduce Feyre to Tarquin.  She was just beginning to get a little bit of sparkle back into her eyes, and he’d be damned if anything put that in jeopardy.  Not if he could help it, anyways. Tarquin had a reputation of being somewhat of a womanizer, and there was no way in hell Rhys was going to let him anywhere near Feyre.  Amren smirked, knowing she had been correct in her assumption.

“Talk to her about it.  Let her make the choice.”  Before he could respond, a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” he snapped, roughly running a hand through his hair.  As Feyre walked through the door, Amren shot him a triumphant grin. Fuck.

“Feyre, just the girl we we looking for,” Amren said sweetly.

Feyre raised her eyebrows and said, “Oh?”

“What brings you here, darling?” he asked, in the small hope that he could delay the inevitable.   

“I had Mor drop me off after we went to lunch.  I wanted to show Nuala some of my latest pieces,” Feyre said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Speaking of art…”

“Amern!” he warned.  Feyre shot him a confused look as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Amren waved her hand dismissively and continued, “A new client wants to meet with you and Rhys over dinner to discuss the plans for his book.”

“Me? Why me?” she said, cocking her head to the side.

“As our best, you would be the artist assigned to him,” Amren stated.  

Feyre gave her a considering look before saying, “I don’t see why that would be a problem.”  He yanked on the the lapels of his jacket, scowling heavily.

“Wonderful.  I’ll let him know,” Amren said as she sauntered out of the room.  Damn her! Oh, she was going to pay for this!

“Are you finished here? I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink,” he asked wearily.   

Her nose crinkled rather adorably as she chuckled, “Amren bullying you again?” Cauldron she was divine.  

“No. Maybe. Fine, yes,” he huffed.  Her answering giggle was music to his ears.  He quickly gathered his things and led the way out of his office.  

“So, what’s the deal with this dinner?  You seem a little ruffled about the whole thing,” Feyre asked as they walked down the hall.  That was putting it mildly. He was feeling downright unhinged at the thought of her being in the same room as Tarquin.  He came to a stop in front of the elevator and pushed the button, wrestling with how to best answer her question. From behind him, Feyre drew in a sharp breath.  

“I’ll take the stairs,” Feyre choked out, rushing past him.  Rhys reached out and took hold of her hand, gently bringing her to a stop.  

“Feyre, do you trust me?”  Her wide eyes met his. He wanted nothing more than to package up that fear and send it straight back to Tamlin, where it came from.   

“Yes,” she whispered.  His stomach twisted painfully as he led her to the elevator door.      

“You can do this.  Just like we practiced,” he said, sounding more sure that he felt at the moment.  Her chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths. Feyre bit her bottom lip and slowly stepped into the elevator.  He squeezed her hand reassuringly. The elevator doors silently came together, shutting them inside.

“Rhys,” she whimpered, eyes wide with panic,.  He took her trembling hand and placed it upon his chest  She met his gaze with such an intensity, it took his breath away.  

“Breathe with me, Feyre. Just breathe.” he said, willing his voice to remain calm, to not betray how truly wrecked he was at the moment.  He murmured, “You’re free.”

Feyre leaned into him, resting her forehead on his chest.  He wrapped his free arm around her, holding her tightly. She clung to him as though she were drowning, and he was the lifeline that could save her.     

He pressed his lips to her brow.  It was getting harder and harder to keep his distance from her.  As Feyre snuggled into his chest further, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need to anymore.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave comments and feedback! Let me know what you think!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as illyrianbeauty


	19. Business or Pleasure?

Rhys glowered at his reflection in the mirror as he slung the onyx colored tie around his neck.  Cursing Amren’s name ferociously under his breath, he began the tedious task of tying the blasted, restricting piece of clothing into a knot.  His deft fingers made quick work of the job, though his mind was on something else entirely, or someone else, to be more precise.  The same someone that had occupied his every thought from the moment she had strolled into his life.  Feyre.  Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose, nearly growling in frustration.  

His second in command had him by the balls and she knew it, given how smug she had been when they had spoken at the office earlier that day. He had made one last desperate attempt to convince her to cancel the meeting with Tarquin, useless though he knew it would be.  The problem was that, as much as he was loathe to admit it, she had a point. Velaris would really benefit from publishing such new and upcoming author such as Tarquin. It made perfect business sense, given the quality of his work.  Not to mention the added bonus of him coming from a prominent, respected family in Prythian. No, his motivations for not wanting the meeting to happen were, as Amren had suggested, rather self-centered.  He didn’t want Tarquin within a mile of Feyre, let alone in the same room.

“Rhys? Are you done yet? I need your help!” Feyre hollered, effectively putting a stop to his pensive thinking.  

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Rhys shouted.  He gave his appearance one last look, smirking rather smugly at his reflection.  Even though he was a nervous wreck on the inside, at least he still looked the part of the powerful, confident CEO.  

He strolled down the hall to Feyre’s room, adjusting collar as he went.  He paused directly in front of her door and raised his arm to knock.  Before his outstretched arm was able to connect with the door, thereby alerting Feyre of his presence, he froze.  He gasped, staring at the door, eyes wide open.  It was shut. Feyre had shut the door!  Rhys felt a surge of pride rush through him.  Cauldron, she was incredible! Out of all the demons she had to battle in the past few months, her claustrophobia had always been the most severe.  Though Feyre had been making a lot of progress with this particular issue, completely shutting herself in a room was a huge accomplishment for her.  When he could finally bring himself to knock, his eyes were still glistening.

“Come in,” she yelled.  Eager to wrap his arms around his… around Feyre and celebrate her success, he quickly opened the door and hurtled inside.  For the second time in as many minutes, he stopped dead in his tracks.  Standing directly in front of him was the most… beautiful didn’t even come close to describing how she looked.  Though he most likely wore the same expression as a gaping fish, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.  She was exquisite.  

“Rhys, thank the Cauldron. I think the zipper is stuck. Help!” she groaned, twisting her body around as she spoke.  She swept her hair up half hazardously in order to expose the back of her dress, which happened to be completely unzipped.  His mouth went dry at the sight of her bare back.    

Feyre swiveled her head and raised a brow, no doubt wondering what was taking him so long.  He gave her a lazy smile and closed the distance between them.  As he reached for the zipper, he caught the tiniest glimpse of the black lacy thong she was wearing.  Rhys tore his gaze away from her backside and focused on her shoulder blades.  He was well and truly fucked.  He was consumed by the urge to trail kisses down the column of her back.  It took all of his considerable self-control to finish zipping up the dress.  He wanted to worship her body, learn what would make her moan.  He longed to hear what sounds would come out of her smart mouth when he… Cauldron damn him, his pants were becoming uncomfortably tight.

Desperate to distract himself, he said, “You know, this was the first time a woman has ever asked me to zip her dress up, excluding Mor that is.  I must be losing my touch.”  Feyre snorted in response to his quip.  

Spinning around and planting her hands on her hips, she asked, “This dress isn’t too casual, is it?  I’ve never been to that restaurant before.”

His forehead wrinkled as he teased, “Meh.  It’s alright.”

She smacked his shoulder playfully and huffed, “Prick.”  He leaned towards her and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“You’re perfect. The dress, I mean.  It’s perfect,” he stuttered.  Smooth. Real smooth.  She rolled her eyes and sorted, yet the corners of her mouth quirked up.  Why did he have to turn into such in inarticulate fool whenever she was around?  He watched as her smile slowly faded.  What wouldn’t he do to make sure she never stopped smiling?          

“Do you think Tarquin is going to like it?” she asked, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  

What the fuck?  His expression hardened as he gave her a once over.  Of course, he would.  What wasn’t to like? She looked utterly enchanting in the pale pink dress she donned.  

“How am I supposed to know if he’s going to like your dress?” he ground out, his jealousy getting the best of him.  

Feyre narrowed her eyes at him and hissed, “I was talking about my sketch, you prick.”  Oh, thank the Cauldron!  Earlier in the week, Amren had given her a detailed synopsis of Tarquin’s book. Feyre had made several preliminary drafts, choosing the best one to pitch to him this evening.  

“Darling, Tarquin may be a twit, but at least he has good taste,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.  

Her eyes flashed dangerously as she purred, “Well, since you mentioned it, is he seeing anyone at the moment?”      

He prowled forward, “If you’re looking to move on in the physical sense, Feyre Darling, Tarquin is a perfect candidate.  I hear he’s quite the ladies’ man, if you know what I mean.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.  They were standing nearly nose to nose, close enough to share breath.  The tension between them was palpable.  His gaze flicked down to her lips for the briefest of moments.

“I’ll be sure to let him know your available,” he said. Lie.  What an utter lie.  He had absolutely no intention of doing anything of the sort.  Quite the opposite, actually.

“Good,” she said, a small smirk on her face. Feyre didn’t seriously think he was actually going to say anything to Tarquin, did she?      

“Don’t forget, we need this deal.  Have your fun with Tarquin if you must, but don’t mess this up for Velaris,” he said in a cold voice, thrusting his hands into his pockets. Feyre sauntered past him, hips swishing in an exaggerated manner.  She paused at the threshold of the door, sending a contemptuous look in his direction.

“Let’s go.  I’m eager to meet this Tarquin,” Feyre said, tilting her head to the side and raising a brow.  

As Rhys watched her walk out of the room, his lips drew back into a snarl.  He had always hoped that when Feyre was ready to begin a new relationship, it would be with him.  He didn’t know how he was going to handle Feyre looking at another man with interest. With desire.  He ran a hand through his hair roughly.  Gritting his teeth, he reluctantly followed her out the door.  Shit. This was going to be a long night.    

***

They had sat in a stony, uncomfortable silence the entirety of the drive to Adriata, the restaurant in which they were to meet Tarquin.  Rhys surreptitiously gazed at Feyre through the corner of his eyes.  She was refusing to look in his direction, lips pursed and staring directly ahead of her as they entered the restaurant.  As much as he had wanted to clear the air, to fix whatever had happened between them earlier, he had found himself unable to find the words.  Putting into words precisely how he was feeling was nearly impossible. And yet, so simple.  He sighed heavily as they approached the hostess.  Rhys plastered a grin on his face, though he still felt completely unhinged. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping to siphon off some of the tension that was threatening to overtake him.

According to the hostess, Tarquin had already arrived and had been seated in the private dining alcove Rhys had requested.  As they were being ushered through the restaurant, Feyre shot the poor young girl a withering glare, though Rhys had no idea what the hostess had done to earn her wrath.  Resisting the urge to grab Feyre and leave, Rhys sauntered through the doorway.  

Tarquin, upon seeing him enter, smiled broadly and stood from the table, offering Rhys his hand to shake.

“Tarquin, good to see you again,” he said, eyeing the man warily.  Rhys shook his hand briefly and then quickly slipped his hand back into his pocket, lest they get into a pissing contest straight away.  He felt Feyre silently move to his side.  He craved to tuck her under his arm, essentially sending Tarqiun a message that Feyre was his.  He wasn’t Tamlin though.  He would never take her choices away from her, despite the fact that every single one of his instincts was roaring at him to claim her. MINE!  MINE!  MINE!  Tarquin turned his attention towards his… towards Feyre and grinned.  

“You must be the artist I’ve heard so much about,” Tarquin said, while shamelessly looking her up and down.  

“I’m Feyre.  It’s nice to meet you,” she said, biting her lower lip, which she tended to do whenever she was nervous.  Feyre jutted her arm out, offering it to Tarquin.  He grinned wolfishly at her as he raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss along her knuckles.  Rhys stiffened imperceptibly as he watched their interaction.  

“When Amren mentioned that you were the best artist Velaris had to offer, she failed to mention you were also the most beautiful,” Tarquin said, his eyes twinkling.  Feyre’s face turned scarlet, as it usually did every single time anyone complimented her.  It was something that he had always secretly found endearing.  Perhaps Tarquin had just done him a tremendous favor by coming on so strong right from the start.  Knowing Feyre as he did, that would more than likely just piss her off.  To his utter horror, she didn’t seem the least bit upset.  

Instead, she brazenly checked him out and said, “You’re not too bad yourself Tarquin.”  The author seemed delighted by Feyre’s attention.  He’s nothing but a puffed-up fucking little peacock, Rhys thought bitterly.      

“Shall we?” Rhys drawled, motioning towards the table.  Until that moment, he hadn’t noticed the other person in the room.  She was sitting at the table as though she were a queen holding court.  Her turquoise blue eyes were fixated on Feyre and Tarquin as he led her over to the table.  Though her expression remained neutral, there was a dangerous glint in her eyes.    

“Allow me to introduce you to my cousin Cresseida.”

Feyre smiled warmly and said, “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.  It’s not every day we get to meet a famous artist,” Cresseida said, tilting her head and smirking slightly.  Feyre’s brows narrowed as she scrutinized Tarquin’s cousin.  Really, the two could be mistaken for siblings.  They both had the same rich brown skin and shockingly white hair.      

“You’re too kind,” Feyre said, shrugging her shoulders.  To anyone else, the gesture would have seemed nonchalant, dismissive even.  Not to him.  After spending so much time with her, he was able to see the underlying irritation in Feyre’s movements.  It seems as though he wasn’t the only one trying to keep their emotions under control.  Good.  

“Cresseida is my assistant.  I wouldn’t be able to get a thing done if it wasn’t for her,” Tarquin said, while pulling Feyre’s chair out for her.  Ahhh, that explains why the viper was there.  Rhys was surprised to see that Tarquin had the foresight to position himself between the two females at the table.  While he wouldn’t mind watching Feyre put Cresseida in her place, that sort of behavior was bad for business.  Rhys slid into the only remaining chair, which happened to be directly across the table from the pretentious author.  

“And you must be Rhysand,” Cresseida said.  There was something about her that unsettled him.  She assessed him shrewdly as she took a sip of blood red wine.  No, she most certainly wasn’t to be underestimated.  

“Please, call me Rhys,” he purred.  Cresseida scrutinized him, and then dismissed him entirely.

Turning her attention back to Feyre, she sneered, “Well my dear, what are you going to do to ensure that this book becomes a bestseller?”      

Rhys rubbed his hands together and smirked, “Shall we get down to business?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry for the delayed update!! Thank you for being patient with me! Please let me knew what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr- illyrianbeauty


	20. The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

Rhys plucked at the cuff of his shirt, his eyes flickering with annoyance as Tarquin and Feyre discussed the initial sketch that she had brought along.

“This is truly beautiful, Feyre,” Tarquin said, grinning broadly at her. The tips of her ears turned bright red. Feyre tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes fixated on the artwork resting on the table in front of her.

“Thank you. It’s just a preliminary sketch. If you approve the concept, I can get started on creating the actual cover for you.” Tarquin picked up the sketch and studied it thoughtfully.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else at the table. Feyre’s shoulders relaxed, and a small, happy sigh escaped her lips. Rhys knew that a lot of pressure had been placed on Feyre’s shoulders over this deal, too much for his liking. He wasn’t the only one who was pleased that Tarquin was being so agreeable.

“I’ll get right to work then,” Feyre announced, offering Tarquin a grin, one in which he returned all too happily.

Leaning closer to her, so that they were nearly touching elbows, Tarquin asked, “Do you do any work on commission?”

Feyre gave a dismissive wave of her hand and snorted, “I’m just an art student. No one would pay for anything I made. Not yet, anyways.” Rhys nearly growled as Tarquin laid a hand on her shoulder and gave her a smarmy smile.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Love. You’re incredibly talented.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow at him and drawled, “Love?”

Rhys might as well not have even been at the table, for all he was being ignored. Not able to watch Tarquin flirting with his… with Feyre any longer, he turned his attention to Tarquin’s cousin, Cresseida. She was toying with her wine glass absentmindedly, her attention fixed on the sketch still in Tarquin’s hand. Disdain flashed in her eyes as she scrutinized the artwork. It seemed as though Rhys wasn’t the only one who didn’t enjoy being left out of the conversation. From what he could remember from the report, Cresseida fancied herself more of an agent than just a simple assistant. It probably pissed her off that Tarquin had approved Feyre’s artwork without her input. That could be dangerous for everyone else sitting at the table, especially Feyre. He needed to distract Cresseida, and quickly.

“So Cresseida, I take it you have read Tarquin’s book,” he said, sliding his chair imperceptibly closer to hers.

“Of course,” she hissed, her brows furrowing slightly as she gave him a once-over.

He rested his hands on the table and purred, “What do you do with yourself when you’re not turning your cousin into a best-selling author?” She pursed her lips, and Rhys had the distinct feeling she wanted to roll her eyes at him.

“I’ll make sure that my cousin stops by Velaris in the morning to sign the contract. You don’t need to continue trying to suck up to me.”

“Well, Amren will be happy to hear that, but that’s not why I asked,” he said, leaning ever closer to her. He could feign interest in this viper of a woman for one evening, so long as it took her attention away from Feyre.

Cresseida cocked her head to one side, biting her lip as she considered him. She glanced back at Tarquin, who still sat enraptured by whatever Feyre was saying at the moment. Turning back to Rhys, Cresseida slowly placed her hand on top of his.

“Rhysand, you’re not at all what I expected,” she said, batting her lashes at him.

“Please, call me Rhys,” he said, flashing the most charming smile he could muster at the moment.

The sound of Feyre’s laugh drifted over to him, pulling his attention away from Cresseida. His eyes inevitably moved back to her, his Feyre There was simply no escaping it, the pull she seemed to have over him. Feyre had become too much a part of his life, too ingrained into who he was. And there she sat, smiling at another man. Never once had she looked at him the way she was now looking at Tarquin. Sitting there and watching their interaction, he came to the realization that she probably would never return his feelings. Suddenly, it was too much. He couldn’t sit here any longer and watch Feyre and Tarquin flirting. It simply hurt too much.

He turned his body back towards Cresseida and said, “It seems as though our presence is no longer needed.” He traced a small circle on the palm of her hand, hoping she would agree. Leaving with her would be far less noticeable than him storming out alone.

Thankfully, Cresseida leaned into him and smirked, “What did you have in mind?”

***

Rhys walked quietly through the living room, bile rising in his throat. He never should have left the restaurant with Cresseida. He should have stayed and made sure that Feyre got home safely. No, that’s not what he really meant. He should have stayed and made sure that Feyre didn’t sleep with Tarquin. As he approached her bedroom door, two thoughts battled for dominance inside his head. What if Feyre wasn’t at home because she was with him? Even worse, what if Tarquin was in her room? Right now? Cauldron boil and fry him, if he had to listen to the sounds of Feyre in the throes of passion with another man…

He paused directly in front of her door, listening for any indication that she was otherwise occupied.

“Seriously Mor, I have never seen Rhys acting like such an ass before,” he heard Feyre say through the door.

He released the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. Thank the Cauldron she was on the phone and not… he couldn’t stop his lip from pulling back into a snarl. Feyre was free to do as she pleased, be with whomever she pleased, but the thought of her being with anyone else still had the same effect on him as a blow to the head. He was in deep. Way too deep, but not deep enough. Feyre still had no idea that he was utterly and completely in love with her.

“What? That’s not true.” she squeaked. His brows knit together as he inched towards the door. What was his busybody of a cousin saying? Though he knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, he had to find out.

“Morrigan, don’t be ridiculous! There’s no way that Rhys… He and Cresseida…”

Rhys’s eyes narrowed as he mulled over Feyre’s words. He hadn’t considered how leaving with Cresseida may appear to Feyre. She couldn’t seriously think that he would sleep with… he smacked his forehead roughly. Of course that’s what she would think. In reality, they had walked to a bar across the street from the restaurant. He had a few drinks, and he listened to her as she talked about her life and problems. She had invited him back to her house, but he had politely declined. They had not so much as even kissed. And now Feyre thought that they had… what a Cauldron damned mess this night had turned into!

“You can’t seriously think that he has feelings for… WOULD YOU STOP LAUGHING?” she hissed.

“Ugh, you’re impossible. I’m going to bed.”

“Yes, alone!” Feyre huffed. The corners of his mouth twitched up at her sass. Rhys had been so apprehensive that her spark, which Tamlin had done his best to smother, was gone for good, but that fierceness of hers he so loved had been slowly coming back the longer she was free of him.

“Love you too, bitch.”

Groaning quietly, he leaned his forehead against the door. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to tell her how he felt. Shit. He was in such deep shit.

***

Rhys unlocked the door slowly and trudged inside, his shoulders sagging noticeably, as though a heavy weight had been placed upon them. Sighing forcefully, he gazed at the folder clutched tightly in his hand. After Az had handed it to him earlier that morning, he had spent over an hour pouring over its contents. While Rhys thought himself to be a smart businessman, he had never once demonstrated the ruthlessness his father had been known for. He had wanted nothing to do with his father’s legacy, which is why he had opted to begin his own company, rather than to continue the corrupt business his father had left him. Unlike Tamlin, Rhys had other dreams for his future, and hadn’t seen the need to go down that path. Not until this moment, had Rhys ever felt like his father, who had delighted in taking down his competition by whatever means necessary. For Tamlin, the very man whose fate he now held in his hands, he was willing to make an exception. For what he had done to his… to Feyre, Rhys would make sure that he suffered. Maybe that made him a bastard, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a breath to steady himself. Maybe he should wait to show Feyre…. No, he couldn’t do that to her. She had a right to see the information Az had uncovered, though he loathed the idea of broaching the subject with her. It would be the final nail in his coffin. No matter how good his intentions had been, Feyre was going to be pissed as hell he had kept this from her. She was already avoiding him like the plague. Three days. It had been three days since she had last spoken to him. Hell, he hadn’t even laid eyes on her since the utterly disastrous dinner with Tarquin Friday evening.

Not that Rhys had been any better. He had spent the remainder of the weekend in his bedroom, convinced that hiding was his best, and only, option. Standing in front of Feyre’s bedroom door now, it was a decision he regretted immensely. Discussing Tamlin would be difficult enough. Now they also had to contend with all of the thoughts and feelings between them, the ones they had left unspoken, the ones he had been hiding from. Coward. He was such a Cauldron damned coward. He should have told her how he felt before going to that dinner. He prayed silently that it wasn’t too late, and that she would forgive him for withholding his plans for Tamlin from her. Now he had to face the consequences of his actions. His hand shook ever so slightly as he knocked gently on her door.

“Feyre? Are you in there?”

“Fuck off Rhysand!” she snarled through the door. He flinched imperceptibly at the use of his full name. Shit. She was not going to make this easy for him.

“Feyre, I know you’re pissed at me, but I need to talk to you. Can I come in? Please?” He jerked backwards as the door was wrenched open. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. Feyre’s arms were crossed over her chest defensively as she glared cruelly at him. Her anger he had anticipated, even though had held onto the desperate hope that she would readily forgive him. No, her anger was not what had his insides clenching. It was her bloodshot, red rimmed eyes that let him know how well and truly fucked he was.

“You need to talk to me? What else could you possibly have to say?” she spat viciously at him.

“Feyre, I’m…,” his voice trailed off as his eyes landed on the half-packed suitcase on her bed. No! He jerked his head in the direction of her bed, his chest raising with rapid breaths.

“What are you doing?” he rasped.

“If you wanted me to leave, you should have just told me,” she said, her voice holding none of the warmth he was accustomed to.

“Darling, what are you talking about? I don’t want you to go anywhere,” he said desperately, running a hand roughly through his hair.

“Don’t you ‘Darling’ me, Rhysand. Your girlfriend made it perfectly clear that I was no longer welcome here. I do wish you would have had the balls to tell me yourself though, instead of sending her in your place,” Feyre hissed, leaning against the doorframe.

“Cresseida was here?” he asked, feeling downright perplexed. They had a few drinks together a few nights ago. That hardly constituted a relationship. Right? He rubbed his chin absentmindedly as he waited for an explanation.

Feyre cackled humorlessly and said, “No, it wasn’t your fuckbuddy Cresseida, though that would have been just lovely. It was the other one- that red headed bitch.” Rhys shook his head in disbelief, panting heavily. He felt as though he had been gutted like a fish, and Feyre was the one wielding the knife.

No. No. No. It couldn’t be. Not her. Not here. Not after everything.

“What was her name?” he managed to get out, while his body began trembling violently.

“Amarantha.”

Rhys was vaguely aware of Feyre calling his name, but it was as though he had been submerged under water. He couldn’t breathe. He was drowning. Rhys swayed on his feet as his vision became blurred, out of focus.

One last word ran through his mind before the world around him turned black. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been planning this scene for a very long time!! I am so excited to finally share it with you! Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr- illyrianbeauty


	21. It’s Not The Future You Are Afraid Of.  It’s The Fear Of The Past Repeating Itself.  – T.W.W

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter has hints of past abuse.

Rhys was vaguely aware of someone calling out his name. Screaming his name over and over, as though they cared.  Slowly, the inky darkness that had captured his vision began to withdraw, and the room gradually came back into focus.      

“Rhys! Thank the Cauldron,” Feyre cried, gently cupping his face with her hands.

“Feyre,” he said in a hoarse, raspy voice.

“Are you alright?” she asked, biting down on her bottom lip.  No, he was far, far from being alright.  Amarantha had come back for him.  Deep down, he had always known that he wouldn’t be able to escape her clutches.

_A white-hot pain flashed across his cheek.  His head jerked back with the force of the blow.  Her nails glistened with ruby red blood.  His blood._

_She inspected her nails, clicking her tongue with feigned amusement._

_She flashed him an adder’s smile and said, “You’re mine, Rhysand.  Did you really think you could leave me so easily?”_

“Rhys, talk to me,” Feyre said, her voice tinged with desperation.  Fuck. Not that he had intentionally withheld this part of his past from her, but he hadn’t wanted to burden her with it either.  

Seeking any way to delay the inevitable, he said quietly, “Let’s get off of the floor first.”  As they made their way over to the couch, Rhys could feel her eyes on him, assessing him.  For the first time since they had met, he wished she would simply ignore him.      

“You sit down.  I’ll go and make some tea for us.”

Rhys collapsed onto the couch, his shoulders sagging.  He covered his face with his hands, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.  

“Here.  Drink this.” Rhys uncovered his face and took the drink Feyre offered.  His hands trembled as he brought the cup to his lips, taking a small sip.  The liquid was scalding hot.  Warmth immediately began to spread through his body.  He hadn’t realized how ice cold he was until that moment.  They sat in silence for a while, his gaze fixated on his drink.  

“So, I take it that Amarantha is not really your girlfriend?” she asked hesitantly.  Taking a deep breath, he turned his body in order to fully face Feyre.    

“No, she most certainly is not,” he replied.  He could have sworn that something similar to relief flashed across her face, but it was gone too quickly for him to be sure.

“Who is she to you, Rhys?  What was she doing here?”  He gently set his cup on the coffee table, struggling to find the words necessary to explain who Amarantha was.  He rubbed his forehead, sighing heavily.    

Feyre reached out a hand and placed it on his, squeezing gently, and said, “Rhys, after what happened with Tamlin, you were there for me.  I was lost, broken into a thousand pieces, but you helped me to heal.  Every day you helped me to find my way out of the darkness. I won’t walk away.  Not from you.”  Fighting against the tears that began pooling in his eyes, he took a deep breath and began telling his deepest, darkest secrets to the woman he loved.    

“I met Amarantha during my first semester at the University.  She was the T.A. for the psychology course I was enrolled in at the time.  I was failing the class miserably, to be honest. Actually, I was pretty much failing all of my courses at that point in time.”

Feyre gave him an incredulous look and said, “I find that rather hard to believe.”

Rhys gave her a half-hearted smile and continued, “It’s true.  I hadn’t yet come to terms with my family’s death.  I was floundering… skipping class all the time.  Getting drunk.   I was a mess.  In an attempt to avoid failing spectacularly, I went to Amarantha for help.” He scrutinized Feyre’s expression then, attempting to determine what she was thinking. She gave him an encouraging smile, urging him to continue.  He tore his eyes away from hers, not able to face her as he continued.  

“Amarantha agreed to work with me, help me to get back on track.  I could tell right away that she found me attractive, so I used that to my advantage. Let her ogle me.  So long as I passed the course, what did I care.  Things between us escalated quickly, though.  By the end of the semester, I was practically living with.  I had never been in a serious relationship before, so I thought that…. I mistook the screaming, the constant fighting, for passion.  I thought that it was normal.  I thought I was in love with her.”  Rhys ran his hand through his hair roughly, huffing bitterly before continuing.

“Amarantha was like a wildfire, destroying everything and everyone in her path.  I was addicted to her, couldn’t get enough of her.  A moth drawn to the flame.  I didn’t realize how she was slowly beginning to control every aspect of my life until it was too late.  After I had been with her for about a year, I stumbled across some documents that she had left out on her desk.  They contained detailed accounts of how she and the dean of her department, a man named Hybern, were using their positions at the University for some rather illegal purposes.  By then, I had had enough.  I confronted her with the information I had found.  Told her I was leaving her.  She reacted… badly.”  Rhys fought against the bile that was rising in his throat as the scene replayed itself in his head.  Feyre gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, which he returned gratefully.  His heart clenched painfully at the knowledge that she would soon have to walk out of his life for good.  

Rubbing his eyes lightly, and ground out, “Amarantha is ruthless and knows exactly where to hit the hardest, how to inflict the most damage.  For me… it was my family.  Cass, Az, and Mor.”  

Feyre made a small, horrified squeak, but he plowed forward. If he stopped talking now, he’d never be able to begin again.  

“She knew where they lived, where they worked. Everything.  So, I stayed. To protect them, I stayed with her. I cut all ties with them.  For months, I refused to see them at all or talk to them.  My sole focus in life was to keep her happy, to keep her satisfied, so that she would turn her attention away from my family.  I didn’t care what she did to me, how she used my body, just so long as they were safe.”

“How did you get away from her?” Ferye asked, he voice heavy with emotion.  He ran a hand through his hair viciously, finding himself unable to voice his greatest fear. He had never really escaped Amarantha. Feyre reached her hand out, gently wiping a tear from his cheek.  He hadn’t even realized he was crying.  

He took a shuddering breath and continued, “Az and Cassian were pissed as hell at me for ignoring them, but they were worried about me. With the help of a small, yet terrifying, grad student, they uncovered Amarantha’s secrets.”

“Amren?” Rhys nodded in confirmation.  

“They were able to uncover enough to have her arrested. Along with my testimony, the DA had all they needed to get a conviction.  I haven’t seen, or heard from her since she was imprisoned.”  Feyre pressed her lips to his cheek.  The kiss was gently, full of care and concern.  It was so different from Amarantha’s forceful, demanding kisses that he was remembering, that he jumped back in surprise.

Her face paled as she stuttered, “I’m so sorry, Rhys. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s fine.  It just surprised me, that’s all,” he said, cutting her off.

She bit her lip and asked cautiously, “Would it be alright if I gave you a hug?”  His heart almost burst right then and there.  

“Of course,” he croaked.  She gave him a watery smile and then threw her arms around him.  Burying his nose in her hair, he took in a deep calming breath.  Feyre had learned the worst parts of him, and hadn’t run. She had seen his worst, and hadn’t balked.  Even though this was likely the last time Rhys would be able to hold Feyre like this, he savored the feeling of having her in his arms.  

“So, why did she come here today?” Feyre asked, pulling out of the embrace.  

Rhys’s whole body tensed as he admitted, “I have no idea.”

##  *******

Feyre hadn’t removed her hand from his, not once, as they waited in a heavy silence for everyone to arrive.  Not that he had wanted her to let go, quite the opposite actually.  She was his anchor, helping to keep his feet on the ground, while the entire world went to shit around them.  Even with everything that was happening, he still marveled at how perfectly her hand fit inside his.  He shook his head slightly, as though the motion alone would eradicate the damning thoughts in his head.  He was well and truly fucked.   **  
**

“They’re all coming?” she asked, glancing at his phone, which he had hastily thrown onto the coffee table.  He nodded in confirmation, finding himself unable to utter a single, solitary word at that moment.  

The text he had sent earlier had been intentionally vague, simply stating that he was calling an emergency family meeting.  Sighing heavily, Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand.  While he loathed the idea of including his family in any situation where Amarantha was involved, they had the right to know what was going on.  His family had seen him through a very dark period of his life.  They had been there for him every day, reminding him of who he was, and what he had to live for.  Many days, they had been the only thing keeping him from trying to find a way to end it all.  

Feyre’s thumb traced soothing circles over his knuckles, effectively stopping his thoughts from traveling down a deep, murky path.  Leaning towards her, he brushed a kiss along her cheek.  

Pulling away slightly, just enough so that he could look into her eyes, and rasped, “Thank you, Feyre.”      

She waved her hand dismissively and said, “Rhys, you’re my best friend.  No need to thank me.  Besides, you’ve had to put up with all of my crap for weeks.  I’m simply returning the favor.”

The corners of his mouth twitched up as he responded, “Best friend, huh?”  

Her cheeks flushed scarlet as she huffed, “Just don’t tell Mor.  She’ll kick both of our asses.”

“It’s a deal,” he chuckled, though his smile didn’t quite reach all the way to his eyes.  Feyre’s mouth opened, but whatever she was about to say was interrupted by the sound of someone pounding on the door.

“Open up, asshole,” Cassian bellowed from the other side.

“Come in,” Feyre shouted, her grip on his hand tightening ever so slightly, as though she were afraid to let go for even the briefest of moments.  He didn’t know why the Cauldron had seen fit to bring Feyre into his life, but he would be eternally grateful for each and every second he was able to spend in her presence.

Cassian burst through the door with as much energy as his rambunctious puppy.

“We brought pizza. Well, Az did.  Nesta and I brought the wine.  I hope it’s okay that she…” Cassian’s voice trailed off as he took in the sight of his brother.

He came to a screeching halt directly in front of Rhys, his eyes narrowing severely.  He was soon joined by Nesta, Mor, Az, and Amren.  Mor rushed over to Rhys, enveloping him in a tight embrace.

“Rhys, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice laced with fear.  She pulled back slightly, though her arm remaining draped across his shoulders.    

“Have a seat everyone,” Rhys said, running a hand through his hair.  Az ground his jaw, but didn’t say anything as he turned around and stalked into the kitchen. He deposited the pizza boxes onto the counter before snatching two chairs that were around the kitchen table.  It seemed as though their little family was growing a tad too large for this small, cozy home.

Amren sauntered over to the recliner to the right of the couch, observing Rhys with an intensity that was somewhat unnerving.  Cass led Nesta over to the other recliner where she sat stiffly, imperiously.  She reminded Rhys of a queen without a throne.  Under different circumstances, he would have loved to see her taking Cassian down a notch or two.  She was definitely a force to be reckoned with, as was her sister.  

“Tell us what’s happening,” Mor demanded, her eyes swimming with tears.  Rhys would bet good money that Mor wouldn’t be leaving his side anytime soon.  She did have the tendency to fuss over him, as though she were the older of the two.  Cass and Az positioned themselves in the wooden chairs Az had brought in, expectant looks upon their faces.  Rhys drew in a long breath, his gaze fixating on the floor in front of him.    

Feyre squeezed his hand comfortingly, giving him the strength he needed to choke out, “Amarantha is back.”  The room was deathly quiet for a solid minute, and then promptly exploded.  

“Everybody shut up, for Cauldron’s sake,” Amren snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously.  

“Who… who is Amarantha?” Nesta asked hesitantly, as though unsure if the question were allowed.

“A very dangerous woman.  One who has done a great deal of harm to this family,” Az said, a calculating look upon his face.  

“How did you find out that she’s back?” Cassian asked, leaning forward in his chair.  Rhys had no doubt that his brother was already devising different strategies on how to best protect their family.  

“She was here.  Feyre spoke with her,” he ground out.  That Amarantha was able to get to Feyre so easily, would haunt him until his dying day.  He would never be able to forgive himself if she were hurt.  Cass swore fiercely, running a hand through his hair.

“What did she want?” Mor gasped, increasing her hold on his shoulder.  

“It was so strange. She introduced herself and Rhys’s girlfriend.”  Feyre’s shoulders sagged imperceptibly as she spoke.  If Rhys hadn’t been watching her so carefully, he might not have noticed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cass growled, the hold he had on his temper tenuous at best.

“She also informed me that Rhys had wanted me to move out, so that she could move in.  She said that Rhys… well… that he was just too polite to tell me himself.”

Az scoffed, “Polite my ass.  Please tell me you threw her out on her ass.”  Feyre suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable, guilty even.    

“Ummmm…”

“Don’t tell me you actually believed that bitch!” Cass said as he crossed his arms over his chest, an indignant look upon his face.  

“Fey, you’ve got to know by now that Rhys would never do that.  Not to you. He’s totally and completely in…”

“Mor, that’s enough,” Rhys snarled, silencing her with a harsh glare.  He ran a hand roughly over his face.  Now was not the time for that particular conversation.  

“So, what do we do now?” Amren asked shrewdly.  

“Feyre needs to move out as soon as possible. Now that Amarantha knows she’s here, it’s not safe,” Rhys said, though the words tasted like ash in his mouth.  

“Feyre, you can stay with me.  I have a guest room you can use for as long as you need to,” Nesta said, her mouth set in a hard line.  Feyre yanked her hand from his, eyes flickering with rage.  He immediately missed her warmth, the feel of her skin on his.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Feyre hissed, “I’m not moving out, Rhys.”  He gritted his teeth, preparing himself for her wrath.  She looked as though she were readying for a good, long fight.  

“Feyre, I don’t want you involved in any of this.  If you get hurt because of me, I’d never forgive myself.”

“Rhys, I’m already involved in this.  Amarantha knows who I am.  Moving out won’t change that.”

“She has a point Rhys,” Cass said slowly, giving Feyre a considering look.  

Rhys’s nostrils flared as he snapped, “You’re moving in with Nesta. Tonight.”  Feyre’s eyes bored into him, but he refused to back down.  He needed to make sure she stayed off of Amarantha’s radar.  He needed to make sure she stayed safe.    

Her hands tightened into fists as she ground out, “Would you want me to leave?  If Amarantha were not involved, I mean.  If she hadn’t come here today, would you still want me to move out?”

“Of course not!  But Amarantha is involved.  It’s not about what I want, Darling.  It’s about keeping you safe.”

“Rhys, it’s my choice to make.  My choice.  You don’t get to make this decision for me.  You don’t get to decide that you’re not worth.  You don’t get to push me away,” Feyre said, raising her chin with a steely determination he hadn’t seen from her before.  It was magnificent to behold.  She was beautiful.  And strong.  

“Feyre, listen…”

“No, you listen to me Rhysand Nos.  I care about you.  Your family cares about you.  We are not going to let you face this alone.  I’m not going anywhere.  I’m staying right here.  With you.” Seeing the tears streaming down her face broke what little of his resolve remained.    

“Feyre’s right about one thing.  We’re all in this together.  We’ve got you, Brother,” Cass said, jerking his head in Az’s direction.

Sighing heavily, Rhys muttered, “Fine.  You win, Feyre.”  Rhys was so consumed by the radiant smile that spread across her face, that he was utterly unprepared when she launched herself at him.  He was soon encircled by her arms, being given a bone crushing hug. The familiar scent of her hair was a balm, soothing the rough, jagged pieces of his soul.  All too soon, she was pulling back.  A blush began forming on her cheeks, which he noted with no small amount of male satisfaction.  

“So, how are we going to take that bitch down?” Nesta, of all people, asked. 

Suddenly, Rhys was no longer afraid.  It didn’t matter that Amarantha was back, that she was likely planning his demise. They would be able to overcome anything she threw at them.  His family would see to that.  That wasn’t the cause of the grin that was now forming on his face though.  Feyre was.  She chose to stay. With him.  She chose him.  A new sensation began coursing through his body, filling up every part of his soul.  It was an emotion he had not let himself feel in a long, long time.  Hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel


	22. I Already Know That I’m Going to Hell.  At This Point, It’s Really Go Big or Go Home.

Daylight trickled in weakly through the window, indicating it was still relatively early in the morning.  That he was able to sleep at all after the emotional roller coaster he endured yesterday was surprising, to say the least.  An unfamiliar, though not uncomfortable, weight lay upon his chest, prompting him to force his heavy lids open.  As his blurry eyes came into focus, they immediately settled on the mass of slightly unruly, golden-brown hair that was strewn across his chest. Feyre.  A sleepy, contented smile spread across his face as he leaned forward, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck.   **  
**

If someone would have told him yesterday that he would be waking up with Feyre Archeron in his arms, he would have scoffed at the sheer absurdity of the idea.  And yet, here they were.  Rhys stilled as he felt her arm snake around his waist, pulling them impossibly closer together as she nestled further into his chest.  Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath, savoring the unique scent that was Feyre.  He would be content to spend the rest of his life like this, wrapped up in her arms. If only she would let him.  He would tell her, he decided.  As soon as they got rid of Amarantha once and for all, he would finally tell Feyre how he felt about her.  At the thought of his own personal redheaded demon, his arms tightened their hold on Feyre.  Could he really ask this of her?  She was just starting to come back to life.  He couldn’t stand the idea of her being shoved back into the hell that she had worked so hard to pull herself out of.

His thoughts drifted back to the conversation with his family the previous evening.  Once Az had gotten his hands on Rhys’s laptop, it hadn’t taken him much time at all to uncover the information that they were looking for.  Thanks to a social media site, they had discovered where Amarantha was living, and the name of a club that she had frequented since her return to Prythian.  It was Nesta, whose devious mind rivaled Cassian’s, who had actually begun to form their plans.  

“She treats Rhysand as though he were a possession, like he belongs to her.  What we need to do is show that bitch once and for all that she doesn’t own him anymore,” Nesta said shrewdly, her eyebrows narrowing severely.  

“But, how do we do that?” Feyre asked, her hand still clutching his.  Nesta eyed her sister, her features softening ever so slightly.  

“She’s threatened by you Feyre, otherwise she wouldn’t have lied when she showed up.  One conversation with Rhysand was all it would have taken for her threats to be exposed for what they really were, but she told you that he wanted you to move out anyway.  We need to use that to our advantage.”

“How?” Cass asked, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“It’s simple.  We give Amarantha exactly what she is afraid of- Rhysand and Feyre together as a couple.”

“But won’t that just piss her off? Why provoke her?” Mor asked harshly, her expression grim.  

“Yes, but that’s exactly what we do want.  We want to unsettle her, make her show her hand before she’s ready,” Cass responded, a calculating look upon his face.

“It’s risky, but it’ll definitely put her on the defensive. We’ll need to be prepared for when she strikes back,” Az said, his jaw clenching.  

“Agreed.  No one is to be alone, if it can be helped.  Mor and Nesta, you’re staying with Az and I.  Rhys, I don’t think I need to tell you to stay near Feyre,” Cass said, leaving no room for debate on the matter.

“What about Elain?” Nesta asked, a look of fear flashed across her face.

“Alright, new plan.  Mor, you’re going to stay with Amren.  Elain can come and stay with us,” Az said, his gaze flickering over to Amren. No one had questioned why the tiny, yet terrifying woman hadn’t had someone staying with her in Plan A.

“Are you kidding me? Why do I have to stay with Amren?” Mor whined, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

“Feel free to sleep on the street, girl,” Amren hissed. Mor muttered some retort that Rhys didn’t think Amren heard, which was probably for the best.

“Now that we have that settled, how are we going to make Amarantha think that Feyre and I are a couple?” Rhys asked, his heartbeat racing at the very thought.  It hadn’t escaped his attention that Feyre hadn’t balked at the suggestion, not once.  

“Easy.  The two of you will go to the club that the bitch seems to favor, on a night when we know that she will be there.  It’s a nightclub.  I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out how to handle yourselves on the dance floor well enough to convince her that you’re a couple.  Not only will it show her that she couldn’t scare Feyre away, it will also show her that she’s not the one in control of this situation.        

Rhys turned his body towards Feyre.  He couldn’t ask this of her.  Wouldn’t ask this of her.  When he was finally able to raise his eyes to meet hers, she was staring at him with a steely, determined glint in her eyes.

“I’ll do it,” she declared.  

“Feyre, you don’t have to…”

“I know, but I want to,” she said, a furious blush appearing on her cheeks.  She looked… okay with the idea.  Nervous, yes. But she seemed okay with it, and Cauldron damn him to hell, he would let her.  To save his family, their family.      

Everyone had stayed well into the night, finalizing all of the details of their plans.  After Nesta had dozed off, using Cassian as a pillow, they had finally decided to call it a night.

After his family had left, he couldn’t bring himself to go to bed.  He knew precisely what awaited him, if he attempted to sleep now. He continued to sit on the couch, his unfocused eyes staring at nothing in particular.  A gentle tug on his hand brought his attention back to the beautiful woman who's fingers still clutched his.  

“Feel like watching the next Harry Potter movie with me? We’re on the Order of the Phoenix, I think,” Feyre asked, seeming as reluctant as he was to go to bed.

At some point during the movie, they must have both fallen asleep, which is how Rhys found himself in his current predicament. Not that he minded one bit, though. To be honest, when he had fantasized about Feyre laying on top of him on this very couch, they were wearing far fewer clothes.  

Feyre adjusted her position, raising her arm, which had been hanging off of the couch, and tucked it underneath herself.  As she was shifting around, her fingers lifted the hem of his shirt briefly, grazing his bare stomach. His eyes closed and he groaned at the sensation.  He was well and truly fucked.  

Slowly, so as not to disturb her, Rhys reached out and carefully uncovered Feyre’s face, tucking the offending strands of golden-brown hair behind an ear.  Her nose crinkled, making her freckles even more noticeable, as the tiniest of snores escaped her.  Cauldron she was adorable.  She looked so peaceful at the moment, as though not a single nightmare had distressed her throughout the night.  His lips pulled back in a snarl at the thought of the source of the nightmares that had plagued her each and every night these past few months. Nightmares.  That was something that they both had in common.  

He had once told Feyre about the dreams he had about his family, about the night that they had been killed, but he had purposely left out that he was also haunted by vivid, ghastly nightmares of Amarantha. When he had shared that bit of himself with her, hoping it would help ease the pain that Tamlin had inflicted upon her, he hadn’t been ready to admit how broken he himself was.  He had been a coward to keep it from her, to keep his own nightmares a secret.  But how could he tell Feyre that he dreamt of Amarantha every single fucking night?  He couldn’t, not when she had looked so devastatingly heartbroken by what had been done to her.  Maybe that made him the worst sort of bastard, but he had wanted to give her what he thought she needed at the time- hope.  Hope that there would be an end to the pain, that she wouldn’t have to relive her nightmares night after night, as he had.  Every single night without exception, until last night that is.

The realization hit him hard, the truth of it leaving him feeling rather breathless.  He hadn’t had a single bad dream, not one, while he had slept wrapped up in Feyre’s arms. She had been able to keep them at bay. Given how peaceful her features were at the moment, Rhys would bet good money that only pleasant dreams had found their way to her last night.  He gazed at Feyre, an expression similar to awe on his face.  The urge to kiss her surged through every fiber of his body, every instinct he had was roaring at him to press his lips to hers.  

Before he was able to do something that he would undoubtedly come to regret, Feyre’s eyes fluttered open.  A shy, sleepy smile crept across her face as grey-blue eyes met his.

“Good morning darling,” he said quietly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.  If they didn’t have this evening hanging over their heads, Amarantha hanging over their heads…

He would have loved nothing more than to continue, trailing kisses across her cheek, down the length of her jaw…

He mentally swore, stopping the damning thoughts before they put him into a rather embarrassing situation.  Considering Feyre’s current position, she would be able to feel exactly how much she affected him.    

“Morning,” she mumbled, before closing her eyes once again, burrowing her face into his chest.  Rhys’s arms immediately tightened around her, holding her close.            

“Comfortable?” he asked, unable to contain the grin that spread across his face.  

“Extremely.  You’re very cozy, Rhysee Poo,” she said, as her eyes opened.  They were full of mischief as they met his.  She grinned impishly as she said, “You are kind of squishy. Maybe we should go to the gym today.” He barked out a laugh, his eyes alight with happiness.

“Feyre darling, don’t let Cass hear you say that. He’d be only too happy to kick my ass from one side of the gym to the other,” he chuckled, flicking her on the nose.

“Prick,” she huffed, though the corners of her mouth were twitching.

They lay there quietly for a moment, each content in simply watching the other.  Rhys noticed a crimson blush forming on Feyre’s neck that began creeping along her cheeks.  She pulled herself out of his embrace, stretching like a cat as she stood up. Rhys would have given just about anything to know what she was thinking in that moment.  What had made her blush?

“I should get dressed.  I have a meeting with Nuala this morning,” Feyre said. She gave him a considering look and asked, “Are you going to Velaris today?”  

Rhys ran a hand though his rumpled hair and considered her question.  He made a show of sitting up on the couch, just to buy himself some time to think.  He should go, he needed to go, if only to give the illusion that Amarantha hadn’t won, if nothing else.  But, if he were being honest with himself, the chances of him getting any actual work done that day was slim to nil.  

Rhys rested his elbows on his knees, and sighed, “No, I think I’m going to call in sick.” He attempted to give her his signature smirk, though it fell a little flat, as he said, “Amren can handle Velaris today.  She owes me anyways, after forcing me to have dinner with Tarquin.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and snorted, “Well, you can’t be that mad at her.  You did get laid that night, after all.”  Rhys flinched, as though she had struck him.  Shit.  Though she appeared nonchalant, he could see the underlying anger in her stance.  Rhys stood up and quickly closed the distance between them.  Feyre crossed her arms over her chest, effectively placing a barrier between them. She raised a brow in a silent question, and order.  Tell the truth, it seemed to say.  He was grateful that she would at least hear him out, let him explain.

“I didn’t sleep with Cresseida.  We went to the bar across the street from the restaurant, had a few drinks, and then we went our separate ways.  I didn’t so much as kiss her,” he said with fervor, praying she would believe him.  A look that was a mixture of both surprise and relief flashed across her face.

“Oh.” she squeaked, her arms dropping to hang at her side.  

“I was never interested in becoming romantically involved with Cresseida.  The only interest I have, where she is concerned, is the book her cousin is publishing, and the profits it will bring to my company.”

Feyre’s eyes were piercing, as though she were seeing through him and into the very depths of his soul.  He held her gaze, determined to make things right with her.

“You… you didn’t sleep with her?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You already said that,” he smirked, relief pouring through him.  She believed him, or so it seemed.  

She scowled and huffed, “Prick.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me otherwise,” he said, a wolfish grin forming on his face.

“You’re impossible,” she groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“You love it,” he purred, giving her a suggestive look.  She turned on her heels and stalked off towards her room, giving him a vulgar gesture before disappearing behind the door.  His shoulders sagged in relief as he took in a deep breath.  One of the many tears in the shredded mess his heart had become seemed to heal in that moment.  Soon, he promised himself.  He’d tell her soon.  

##  *******

While Rhys had thought staying home from work had been the best option at the time, he regretted his decision immediately after Feyre had left.  Having nothing to preoccupy his time, he began going over the plans for the evening, and imagining every possible way that things could go wrong.  After an hour, he felt sick to his stomach.  By the time that Feyre walked back through the door, he was in a state of near panic.  

“Rhys, what’s wrong?” she asked, both concern and fear heavy upon her face.  

“Nothing. It’s just…” She closed the distance between them, taking his hand in hers.    

“Talk to me Rhys.  Let me help.”

Rhys rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “I’m thinking that I want to call off the plans for tonight.”

Her brows narrowed as she asked, “Why?”  What he wanted to say was- Because I’m in love with you.  I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt because of me.  And because I don’t want to pretend with you, I want it to be real.  Instead, he told her a version of the truth.

“Because I’m scared, Feyre.  Amarantha is dangerous.  I care about you, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if she hurt you, or your family.  And because you’ve finally gotten that sparkle back into your eyes, and I can’t stand the thought of anything we do tonight destroying that happiness, dimming that light that burns so brightly in you now.”

She squeezed his hand tightly and said, “I know what tonight will entail.  I am not afraid.  You are my best friend, and nothing, nothing, will change that.”  

Rhys pulled her into the kitchen and poured them both a glass of wine.  He needed to convince her, somehow, that it was too dangerous.

“If we do this, we have to look like a couple.  We’d have to touch each other like a couple.  Without hesitation, otherwise she’ll be on to us.”

He watched as Feyre took a sip of her wine, running her tongue along her bottom lip. She removed her hand from his, resting it instead on his chest.  

“Rhys, I know what tonight will ask of me, of us.  Let me help. I want to do this.” The sincerity of her words, the care and concern etched on her face nearly broke what little resolve he had left.

He set his glass down on the countertop, not once breaking eye contact with her.  He closed what little space remained between them, gently pushing her backwards until her backside met the wall.  He pressed himself against her fully, resting his arms on either side of her body essentially trapping her, though not forcefully enough that she couldn’t free herself if she had wished to.  

Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his face towards her, so that his lips brushed the shell of her ear, and asked, “So you think we should do this, Feyre darling?”  He pulled back slightly, just enough so her could look at the expression on her face. She did not seem uncomfortable. Instead, she smirked at him as she took another sip of wine.  He needed to be sure though, that what would have to happen tonight wouldn’t destroy her, destroy them.  Rhys reached out, and slowly ran his thumb across her bottom lip.  How many times had he wanted to bite that lip? He brought his thumb to his mouth, and licked off the remnants of her wine, savoring the taste of her.  Rhys could have sworn there was a hint of lust written upon her face as she met his challenge. She leaned into him, her arm snaking around his neck.

Her voice was clear, and without a trace of doubt when she said, “Yes, I think we should do this.” Rhys was momentarily distracted by her fingers, which had found their way into his hair, and lightly tugging on the ends.

He grinned wolfishly at her and purred, “Then, let’s go get ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel
> 
> Find me on Tumblr- illyrianbeauty


	23. If I was on the road to Hell, at least I was going in style

The drive to the club had been quiet thus far, both he and Feyre were too wrapped up in their own thoughts to even pretend to have any semblance of a conversation.  Not that he minded, far from it actually. Being roommates, essentially spending his day to day life with her, had gotten him accustomed to sharing these quiet moments.  It was an intimacy he had come to cherish, where he got to enjoy simply being in her company. In fact, the only time that any sort of silence between them had been awkward, uncomfortable even, was that disastrous night in which they had gone to dinner with Tarquin.  He snorted, running a hand through his hair roughly. What a Cauldron damned mess that had turned into! Feyre had seen fit to forgive him though, or was at least willing to put everything that had happened behind them. 

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he recalled their conversation earlier that morning.  A look of relief had flashed across her face, breaking through the facade she had so impressively donned, when she had learned that he had not slept with Cresseida.  It had happened so quickly that he had almost missed it. Her expression had returned to a blank, empty mask almost immediately, but not fast enough. The hope that he had felt in that moment had been nearly paralyzing in its intensity.  Rhys still couldn’t, for the life of him, comprehend why she had been so willing to believe he was even capable of so much as looking at another woman, let alone sleeping with one. When would Feyre realized that she was it for him? The way she could make him laugh, the way she always knew exactly what to say to ease his jagged nerves… she was his soulmate, plain and simple.  Feyre was the one with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life…. he just prayed that whatever happened tonight didn’t destroy what had been slowly building between them. 

Rhys surreptitiously gazed at her through the corners of his eyes.  While her brows were furrowed, she didn’t appear to be excessively anxious. His gaze raked over her form, greedily taking in the sight of her bare legs.  He was in such deep, unending shit. 

“And here I was, worried that my dress was not flashy enough for tonight,” Feyre huffed, raising a brow at him.  

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and drawled, “It will do.  Though, it could stand to be a tad shorter.” In reality, the dress she had chosen for the evening was nothing less than sinful.  She was temptation incarnate. When Feyre had walked out of her bedroom, Rhys had to shove his hands deep into his pockets in order to keep himself in check.  It took all of his substantial, though admittedly diminished, self-control to remain rooted in place. He had wanted nothing more than to to prowl over to her and slowly remove that scrap of fabric from her body, just to see what exactly, if anything, she had on underneath.  Her blue-grey eyes twinkled with amusement as she looked him up and down. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Rhysee Poo.”  Wrinkling her nose, she gave him a disdainful look and sneered, “Though, Mor would be aghast to learn that you are, once again, clad head-to-toe in black.”  Rhys threw his head back and barked out a laugh. Feyre leaned back in her seat, a rather smug expression upon her face.

He tore his gaze from her, focusing instead on locating a spot to park his vehicle.  For a weekday, the place appeared to be unusually busy, which was to their advantage.  It would be harder to avoid a direct confrontation with Amarantha if the club was void of other patrons.  Their mission tonight was to show Amarantha that her attempt to intimidate Feyre had been unsuccessful. That, and to prove that they were in fact a couple.  His heart started beating rapidly in his chest at the thought. Going forward, their plans relied heavily upon Amarantha believing that he and Feyre were dating.  A fact that Cass had seen fit to stress no less than five times as they had spoken on the phone earlier. 

As Rhys placed the car into park, he said, “We’re here.” His stomach lurched as he gazed across the street at the club.  Closing his eyes, Rhys took in a deep, calming breath and forced his expression into one of arrogance and disdain. 

His carefully crafted façade faltered ever so slightly when he felt Feyre’s fingers entwining with his own.  

“Well boyfriend, let’s go.”  He couldn’t help the thrum of excitement that coursed through his body at the title she bestowed upon him.  What wouldn’t he give for it to be real? 

*******

As they sauntered into the club, Rhys grasped her hip, pulling her in closer to him.  

Leaning towards her, so that his lips nearly brushed against the shell of her ear, he said, “Let’s find a seat at the bar.” Feyre slung her arm around his waist, resting her hand in his back pocket.  The gesture felt oddly intimate, though he didn’t mind one bit. Oh no, he most certainly did not mind. He grinned wolfishly at her, and so as to not be outdone, risked lowering his own hand a few inches.  Cauldron boil and fry him, her dress was so short that the pads of his fingers grazed the bare skin of her thigh. Toying with the hem of her dress, he led her over to the bar. 

“Mor was right. We should come here more often,” he said, glancing around the sparsely lit space.  No sign of Amarantha just yet. She was likely brooding in a dark corner, out of his line of sight.    

“There are more people here than I expected,” Feyre said as she scanned the club with feigned indifference, most likely also familiarizing herself with their surroundings.  

An idea began to worm its way into his head, the sort of idea that would probably get him kneed in the balls.  Fuck it. He was already going to hell, so he might as well have a good time on the way down. 

After ordering their drinks, Rhys sat in the only remaining seat at the bar.

Feyre narrowed her brows at him and hissed, “A real gentleman would give the seat up for his lady.”  She pointed at her precariously high heeled boots and continued, “Especially if that lady is in fucking heels.” 

Rhys grinned wickedly at her as he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her onto his lap.  Her squeal of surprise had him chuckling lightly. He pressed a kiss to her temple, an apology of sorts.  He rather liked the sound of ‘my lady.’ He tucked that bit of information away for another time. 

“You, Feyre darling, are no lady.  Especially not with that wicked, dirty mouth of yours.”      

She smacked his chest and giggled, “Prick.”  

“You have the most adorable laugh.  Have I ever told you that?” 

She snorted, “No.”  Rhys could see the doubt that was in her eyes, as it usually was anytime anyone ever complimented her.   

“Well, you do,” he said.  She rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth twitched upwards.  As Feyre leaned back, resting against his chest, he nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck. This would be their first test. If Feyre wasn’t comfortable… if she couldn’t… he would have to find some way to get them out.  Fast. Rhys brushed his lips along her neck, trailing kisses along the length of it. He froze in place as he felt her body trembling ever so slightly. Shit. She turned to face him, giving him a wanton grin. 

“You alright?” she whispered in his ear, a split second before taking the shell of his ear between her lips, lightly scraping the edge with her teeth.  Rhys groaned at the sensation. What the hell was happening? He thought that Feyre had been ready to call the whole thing off, and here she was, asking him if he was okay.    

He nodded at her ever so slightly, and then began trailing gentle nips and kisses along her collarbone.  Her hand found its way into his hair, tugging lightly on the ends. 

The bartender smirked as she placed their drinks on the bar in front of them.

“Thanks,” Rhys said shortly, finding himself slightly annoyed at the interruption.

“I guess I don’t need to tell the two of you to have a good night,” the bartender said, winking at the both of them as she walked away. Feyre turned a rather adorable shade of pink as she reached for her drink. 

Rhys pressed a kiss directly behind her ear and whispered, “If you are uncomfortable, please tell me and we’ll leave.  No questions asked.” Feyre turned to face him and tenderly placed a kiss on his check.

“Your lap is quite comfortable actually.  We really don’t need to find a table. As long as you’re alright, that it.”  For the first time all evening, a genuine smile spread across his face. He understood the true meaning behind her words- she was willing to continue so long as he was. 

“I’m rather comfortable myself,” he said, resting a hand on her knee.  She smirked, snuggling further into his chest. Cauldron, this woman would be the death of him.    

He began to draw lazy, circular patterns on the inside of her thigh.  Rhys could feel the gooseflesh forming on her skin, but she didn’t pull away, not once.  Feyre had crossed her legs at the ankle, most likely as a precaution due to the rather short nature of her dress.  Though her legs remained crossed, she spread her legs apart a fraction of an inch, allowing him better access. 

Though he knew it made him the worst sort of bastard, he couldn’t stop kissing her, couldn’t stop touching her.  Feyre pressed herself impossibly closer to him, encouraging him to continue. 

Her breath hitched as he ran his tongue up the back of her neck.  He reveled in her reactions to his touch. Feyre’s entire body stilled as she discovered he had hardened beneath her.  Shit. Expecting her to jump up in disgust, he removed his hands from her body. Instead of pulling away, she writhed against his length, causing him to hiss at the contact. 

“Why’d you stop?” she asked.  Rhys found himself utterly incapable of moving as she continued to slowly torment him. 

“Cruel, wicked woman.”  A snort was her only response.    

“Feyre,” he groaned, resting his forehead on her bare back.  Whether it was a plea for her to stop, or for her to continue, he wasn't sure.  Mercifully, she stood up, offering her hand to him.

“Dance with me?” she asked, biting down on her bottom lip roughly. 

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” he ground out.  She huffed a laugh and yanked on his hand, effectively pulling him off of the barstool.  Thank the Cauldron the club wasn’t brightly lit at the moment. He didn’t need the whole club to see his hard on.  

As they walked hand in hand across the club, Rhys saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.  Amarantha. Knowing that she was back was entirely different from actually seeing her in front of him.  It was as if a bucket of ice had been thrown on him. He stumbled, nearly falling to the floor. Feyre flashed him an alarmed look, no doubt understanding what had made him lose his footing.    

He struggled to empty his face of all emotion, to force the mask back into place.  Feyre’s thumb made soothing strokes on the back of his hand. He couldn’t afford to lose his shit now.  This is why they were here. Everything was going according to plan. Rhys rolled his shoulders in an attempt to release some of the tension he felt.  As they walked onto the dance floor, Rhys flashed her a wolfish grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Wrapping his arms around Feyre’s waist, he pulled her against him.  Her arms snaked around his neck, her fingers once again finding their way into his hair.  Luckily, a somewhat slower song was playing, allowing him a chance to pull himself together.  Resting his forehead on hers, Rhys closed his eyes and breathed in her comforting scent. One of the hands that had been tangled in his hair, began to stroke his cheek gently.  He pulled back, just enough to be able to see her face. 

Feyre was looking at him with an expression he didn’t quite understand.  Rhys stood absolutely still as she traced his jawline with a finger. The smile on her face was radiant as she closed the distance between them.  Rhys wasn’t sure if he was still breathing as Feyre pressed her lips against his. 

*******

Feyre had been gone a long time.  Too long. Shit. An uneasy sensation took up residence in the pit of his stomach.  Rhys adjusted the labels of his jacket as he stood, ever the irreverent, spoiled CEO.  As much as he wanted to sprint towards his Feyre, he knew that, more than likely, there were eyes upon him.  He swaggered across the club, towards the ladies’ room. He never should have let her out of his sight. He should have followed her, made sure that she was safe.  Shit. 

As he left the main area, turning down the hall that led towards the bathrooms, it was all that Rhys could do to keep himself walking at a normal pace.  Though the lights were dim, he could just barely make out two figures standing near the end of the hall. He strolled forward, thrusting his hands into his pockets.       

His world seemed to come to a stop as the scene before him finally came into focus.  Nothing but utter and complete terror flooded through him as he watched Amarantha’s hands encircle Feyre’s neck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr- illyrianbeauty


	24. The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained

Rhys fought to keep his expression void of any emotion, a blank mask to hide the extent of his fear.  The pressure he felt in his chest was making it extremely difficult for him to breathe.  It was as though as though he were under water, struggling in vein to take in even a single breath.   **  
**

“Whatever are you doing with my lady, Mara? Tsk, tsk. Such poor manners,” he drawled, taking in the sight of the woman who had been haunting his dreams for years on end.

The red haired demon twisted her head in his direction, though her hands remained fastened securely around Feyre’s neck.  

“Rhysand, what a pleasant surprise,” Amarantha said, a serpentine smile stretching across her face.  

“I must say, I was surprised to hear that you were back in our fair city.  Good to see your circumstances have improved,” Rhys said, flicking a nonexistent speck of dust from the sleeve of his jacket with an air of indifference.

“I have rather enjoyed my time here, actually. It’s been rather stimulating.  I’m thinking about making my stay here more… permanent,” Amarantha said, a malevolent look flashing across her features.

“It certainly has its perks.  If you know where to look, that is,” Rhys said, taking a single step in Feyre’s direction.  He needed to get her away from Amarantha, and quickly.  

“And, is that what she is to you Rhysand? A perk?” Amarantha sneered, increasing her grip on Feyre’s neck.    

“Now, now Mara. I can’t have you throwing insults at Feyre darling.  She just so happens to be my girlfriend, so do try to play nicely,” he huffed, jutting his hands into his pockets, needing something to do in order to siphon off some of the apprehension he was feeling.  It was a risk, calling Feyre his girlfriend, but it was a risk that he had to take. After all, wasn’t that exactly what Amarantha was supposed to believe? That he and Feyre were a couple?

Amarantha clicked her tongue and sneered, “I’m disappointed in you, Rhysand.  It saddens me to see that you’ve lowered your standards so drastically.  You deserve so much better than this uneducated piece of trash.  

“Let her go, Mara,” Rhys murmured, closing the distance between himself and Amarantha.  

“And why ever would I do that?” she asked, raising a perfectly manicured brow at him.  She smirked at him before continuing, “My new friend Feyre and I are having such a good time getting to know one another.”

“She’s got nothing to do with this, Mara.  This is strictly between you and I.  Why don’t we take this conversation to a more private location?” he purred, running a knuckle down the length of her arm.  Bile rose in his throat as the cloying scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils.  He pushed all of his feelings, his disgust, to the back of his mind.  If selling his soul to the devil herself was the price he had to pay to keep Feyre safe, he would gladly do it.  

“Oh Rhysand, you always were a terrible liar,” Amarantha said, her eyes flashing dangerously as they focused on Feyre.  

“Let her go, Amarantha,” he said, his lips pulling back in a snarl.

“Oh, I don’t think so.  I have other plans for her,” she said, her sickly-sweet voice not matching the rage that flickered in her eyes.  As Feyre’s terror filled eyes meet his, a wrath unlike any other he had felt before began coursing through his body.

No.  He refused to let this amazing, fiery, perfect creature be taken from him, just like everyone else he ever cared about had been.    

“You and I, we are going to have so much fun together,” Amarantha cooed, flashing Feyre a grin.  

“Go to hell, you bitch,” Feyre growled, her face contorted in anger.  

“Is that how you treat a friend?” Amarantha pouted, tilting her head to the side, a predator playing with her prey.  

“Amarantha, you don’t scare me.  Nothing you can do, or say, will keep me from being with Rhys. Your plan failed.  You failed,” Feyre said fiercely, though her entire body was trembling.

“Oh sweetie, I wasn’t trying to scare you,” Amarantha purred, a wicked grin creeping across her face.  Chucking slightly, she continued, “It was Rhysand I wanted to scare. And now that I know exactly where, our should I say with whom, his weakness lies, taking my revenge is going to be that much sweeter.”

With her hand clenched tightly into a fist, Feyre drew back her arm.  Her expression was cold and vicious as she slammed her fist into her captor’s jaw.  Amarantha’s head snapped back with the force of the blow, a shrill scream erupting from her lips.  Pride and awe surged through him as Feyre, with a move that would have Cassian glowing with pride, stomped on Amarantha’s foot.  Amarantha’s grasp on Feyre’s neck loosened, giving Feyre the opportunity she needed to break free.  

Feyre launched herself at him, encircling her arms tightly around his waist.  As she buried her head into his chest, Rhys pressed a kiss onto her temple.  Wrapping his arms around her, Rhys pulled her body impossible closer to his.  He breathed in her comforting scent, burying his nose in her hair.  

“You are going to regret that, you stupid bitch,” Amarantha howled, holding her face in her hands.  

Taking small step out of his embrace, but not letting go of him, Feyre smirked, “I doubt highly doubt that.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Rhys said, relief flooding his senses at having Feyre in his arms once again.  

Holding her hand out, effectively stopping him, Feyre said, “Wait just one minute.” Rhys’s brows shot up, silently demanding an explanation.  A dangerous look crossed her face, the same look she got whenever they played chess, right before she announced checkmate.  “Grab her purse.  It’s in the floor over there,” she said quietly, pointing to an obscure lump on the ground near his foot.

“Why?” he asked, narrowing his brows at her.  He stepped out of Feyre’s arms, instantly missing the feel of her skin against his.  Rhys flashed Feyre a questioning look as he took hold of Amarantha’s purse.  

“I’ll explain everything later,” she assured him.  

“Give that back to me, you traitorous bastard,” Amarantha howled, the look on her face promising retribution.  It seemed as though Feyre had discovered something of value after all.  

Taking his free hand in hers, she said, “Let’s go.”  Without a backwards glance at Amarantha, they strolled down the hall and out of the club.      

##  *******

Rhys slammed the car door shut, the sound echoed in the distance, disturbing the otherwise peaceful night.  The shores of the Sidra were vacant, unsurprising given the late hour of the evening.  Rhys stalked over to the edge of the water, shoving his hands in his pockets as he glared into its murky depths.  Silent as a wraith, Feyre slid up to his side, the warmth of her body seeping into his skin.  His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, a multitude of emotions coursing through his body.  He never should have let her take such a huge risk, not for him.  If anything had happened to her… he was such a fool.  A Cauldron damned, selfish fool.

“Rhys, are you alright?” Feyre asked hesitantly, placing a hand tenderly on his elbow.  

“Am I alright?  Am I alright?  You’re the one that nearly got killed, and you want to know if I’m alright?” he asked, a bitter laugh escaping him.  

Wincing slightly, Feyre replied, “Seriously Rhys, I’m fine.  Besides, we were able to get what we needed.  We now have enough information to take Amarantha down once and for all.   That’s the important thing.”

“The hell it is,” Rhys roared, running a hand through his hair roughly.  Whirling around to face Feyre, he continued, “If anything had happened to you tonight… if you had gotten hurt…”  With heartbreaking gentleness, Feyre reached out and cupped his face with her hands.  

Caressing his cheek with the pad of her thumb, she said, “Rhys, it’s okay.  I’m alright. Nothing bad could ever happen to me, not so long as we’re together.”  Leaning into her touch, Rhys squeezed his eyes shut and took in a shuddering breath.  When he opened his eyes, his expression dulled.    

“I’m so sorry, Feyre,” he said, his voice flat and void of emotion.  

Feyre’s nose crinkled as she snorted, “What could you possibly have to be sorry about?”

His eyes burned with rage and shame as he ground out, “I never should have let you go tonight.  It was a mistake to have you get involved in any of this.  It’s my problem, my responsibility.  Not yours.”

Feyre wrenched her hands away, placing them on her hips as she snapped, “I understand that you were concerned for my safety tonight Rhysand, but don’t you dare try to keep me out of this.  I am just as involved now as you are.”

“That’s just it, I never should have allowed you to get involved.  I should have insisted that you move out of the house immediately.  This is all my fault,” he hissed, unable to maintain control over his tumultuous emotions.

“That’s such bullshit, Rhysand.  Going to the club with you tonight was my choice to make, not yours.  Stop acting as though you know what’s best for me.  You don’t own me,” Feyre yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks.  Her words were kindling to his already scorching, fiery temper.  

“I’m not him, Feyre.  I would never lock you up, hurt you like that.  How could you compare me to him?” he roared, crossing his arms over his chest.  

“What the hell is your problem?  You seemed to be going along with everything just fine until Amarantha threatened me.  And may I remind you, that I am just fine.”

“What do you want from me Feyre?  Do you want me to just let Amarantha have her way with you? Let her torture you?  Destroy you, and everything that you love?  Is that what you want?”  

Her stormy grey-blue eyes had a dangerous glint to them as she stared him down.  She pursed her lips and sneered, “What do you care about what I want?”

“What do I care? What do I care? Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he shouted, flinging his hands into the air.    

“Have you ever asked me Rhys?  Have you ever once just asked me what it was that I wanted? No.  No, you haven’t.  Because you think you know what’s best for me.  You don’t want me to compare you to Tamlin? Then don’t fucking act like him!” she hollered, wrapping her arms around her chest.  Rhys flinched, her words hitting him like a physical blow.  

The expression on her face softened imperceptibly as she said, “Rhys…I…  ” Her arms dropped to her sides, her shoulders sagging as though they were under a tremendous weight.  

“Let’s go home,” he said hoarsely, unsure he would be able to survive any further wounds inflicted by her barbed tongue.  Feyre’s fingers twitched, as though she itched to reach out and grasp his hand.  If only that were true.  

“Is that still my home?” Feyre asked, sadness clouding her features.  Her gaze pinned him to the spot, he couldn’t have looked away had he wanted to.  It would have been better if she had shouted, yelled and raged at him.  Knowing that he was the cause of her pain, nearly wrecked what was left of his bruised, battered spirit.  

“I’m sorry Feyre.  For everything,” he murmured, closing the distance between them.  Her eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn’t quite name as she took a step back, away from him.

“Let’s just go,” she ground out, pivoting towards the car.  As Rhys watched Feyre’s retreating form, he couldn’t help but to feel as though he were losing her once and for all.  And it was his own Cauldron damn fault.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I love getting comments and constructive criticism! Enjoy! ~Rachel 
> 
> Find me on tumblr- illyrianbeauty


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